


to love and be loved by you

by lavenderlotion



Series: i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Difference, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Awkward Flirting, BAMF Hulk, Background Relationships, Bisexual Bruce Banner, Bisexual Peter Parker, Canon-Typical Violence, Civil War Team Iron Man, Claustrophobia, Coming Out, Crime Fighting, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Developing Sexuality, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, First Dates, First Kiss, Friendship, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Hetero-flexible Ned Leeds, Homosexual James "Bucky" Barnes, Identity Reveal, Insecurity, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Multi, Not Steve Rogers Friendly, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Hulk, Protective Peter Parker, Relationship Discussions, Slow Build, Teasing, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, not team Cap friendly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 62,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23420497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: Jumping over another car, Peter spun in the air and landed lightly on his feet beside a hotdog cart before immediately springing back to his full height and planting his feet, locking his knees tightly in front of the lady screaming for her life as she sobbed incoherently. Hulk was still swinging his arms around blindly, punching through the air without any discretion.Peter took a deep breath. Hulk roared loudly and wound his arm back before swinging it forward in a long, racing arch directly at Peter’s body. Without a single thought of himself, his mind only on the woman whose life was in danger, Peter caught Hulk's fist squarely in his hands and ignored the concussive force of it travelling down his palms and throughout his entire body. He groaned under his breath as his knees shook, nearly giving out, and he almost cried out at the pain in his shoulders.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Peter Parker, Hulk/Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes & Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes/Ned Leeds, May Parker & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684696
Comments: 219
Kudos: 489





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this story in August of 2018 and is the longest thing I've ever written. It has been a looooong journey to get here, and one I really, really hope that you enjoy! This fic is currently being edited, which is taking the most work, but updates will be every other Wednesday!

Peter ran harder, feet slapping against the rooftop as he pushed himself as fast as he could. He’d seen the large mushroom-cloud of green smoke at the same time as the rest of his class and he’d ducked out of physics as his peers rushed towards the windows. Peter already had his bag with him as he rushed to the roof, spilling out of the metal maintenance door and immediately pulling off his clothes.

Getting into his suit was much easier now, and he tapped the spider emblem the moment he got his arms all the way in. Not wasting a moment, he began running as he pulled his mask down, not bothering to secure his clothes down to the roof, confident that Ned would know where he went and get them for him like he’d done countless times before. His next step became a leap as he threw himself off another building, free-falling through the air before he flexed his wrist, pushing down with his two middle fingers to fire a stream of webbing into the air.

It caught the side of a building and he grabbed hold, pulling his legs under him as he swung up through the air. Peter let out a breathless peal of laughter as buildings rushed by him in a blur, moving so fast it was impossible to make out a single detail. He was  _ free, _ flying through the air the way without anything holding him down, and he was giddy with how it felt. Swinging in a low arch he launched himself upwards, soaring up and over another building as the cloud of smoke grew larger the closer he got to where the explosion must have happened.

“Hello, Peter,” Karen's voice rang through his ears, the display of his mask lighting up with different information. 

There were statistics on the weather, his web-slinging, the most practical route to get to where he needed to be. He didn’t give the display much mind, focusing instead of zipping through the city as a smile curled up his lips and Karen’s familiar, friendly voice—it didn't matter what Mr. Stark said; he and Karen were  _ totally best friends _ .

“Karen! What  _ is _ that?” Peter asked, swinging around a building and propelling himself upwards, flying through the air and over the surrounding buildings. He focused on the still-growing cloud of green smoke as Karen came alive and plotted out the easiest route for him to take.

“It appears that Dr. Doom has unleashed a legion of tiny robots in Times Square,” Karen told him calmly, her voice as even as always. “The Avengers have already arrived on the scene and are working at evacuating the area while controlling the robot threat.”

“Oh cool,” Peter hummed as he followed the route Karen mapped out, swinging between buildings with ease. Damn, the explosion site was  _ way _ further than he’d thought. 

Peter had only seen all the Avengers fighting together once, that one time Mr. Stark had asked him for help fighting Captain America and half of the Avengers in Germany. And even then, they weren’t fighting  _ together _ (and, really, Peter still wasn't totally sure what exactly had gone down). They’d only started fighting as a team together a little over a year ago and Peter hadn’t helped them with anything until now. 

He didn’t really like the idea of them all being back in Mr. Stark’s life, but... he couldn’t really say anything about it. Not to Mr. Stark, anyway. ‘Cause sure, of course he knew that it had something to do with the Accords and that was why they were fighting in Germany, but Mr. Stark had seemed so upset on the plane ride back to New York—even if he tried  _ really _ hard to hide it—that Peter still thought that more than what the press talked about had happened.

Peter wasn't going to  _ ask, _ that was for sure, but he wondered. Especially now that they were all working together again and living out of the Tower like they had before everything went to shit, when Peter had to step in and help Mr. Stark fight them all, what had really happened over those few months? It wasn't his place, though, so he wasn’t going to ask. 

But he  _ was _ going to keep showing up whenever Mr. Stark needed him and obviously didn’t want to call any of the others to help him, and he was going to keep asking Mr. Stark if he was okay so he’d know that someone really cared about him, and he was going to keep  _ being there, _ just so Mr. Stark would always know that he had someone in his corner.

“You will find an excellent vantage point up on your left,” Karen told him, his HUD display lighting up with a semi-transparent arrow pointing to the edge of a high building.

Throwing out his arm, Peter shot a web. His shoulder protested in a bright burst of pain as he was yanked roughly to the side while his trajectory changed abruptly. He groaned even as he let the webbing go, falling through the air as his arms wind-milled about him. The rooftop raced towards him and Peter hit the ground moving too quickly. He dropped himself to the ground, rolling over on his shoulder before sticking his palm to the roof to bring himself to a stop. His body kept going with the momentum he had built from his free-fall and his legs continued to move and arched over him before slamming into the rooftop. 

“Excellent stop, Peter,” Karen complimented even as Peter groaned loudly in pain. He told himself that he was just imagining the sarcastic tilt to her voice, but damn him if it wasn't really there.

“Thanks,” he croaked, taking a moment to catch his breath before he stood again, arching his back in a long stretch and rubbing at the sorest part. Shit, that had been just a little too rough.

Walking slowly to the edge of the building, Peter rolled out his shoulders slowly, feeling his soreness in his skin fade away as his healing kicked in. Once at the edge, he crouched low enough to peer out over the street that the large pillar of smoke was coming from. There was a long truck lying on its side, its front crashed into a building with rubble littering the street around it. A ridiculous amount of green smoke was billowing up from the wreckage which had formed the large mushroom-cloud he’d seen from his classroom, all of it rising from where the engine must have been. 

Peter figured that was what Doom had used to transport the bots, considering there were still a number of weirdly shaped robots spilling out from the large, roughly carved-out hole in the truck’s side.

Neither he nor Karen's scanners could see Doom anywhere. Which really wasn’t that much a surprise. Seeing as how Doom almost always sent out his bots first and only making a dramatic entrance late into the battle once his 'creations' had been dealt with by whatever subset of the Avengers were dealing with him that day. He usually bothered the Fantastic Four, but on the off chance he was in Avengers territory he usually didn’t require the whole team.

Considering how many civilians Peter could  _ still _ see running about and the  _ hordes _ of robots chasing after them, it made sense that they were all here. Below him, most of the Avengers were mid-battle, fighting robots of varying sizes. Peter watched with wide-eyes as two of the robots  _ joined together _ to double in size before they were struck by an arrow that blinked twice before exploding.

_ Shit.  _

Peter reared back, not realizing that his mask had zoomed in on the robot he’d been watching until he was blinking his eyes to clear the bright spots dancing across his vision caused by the exploding arrow. He widened his eyes to zoom back out, murmuring  _ “lock zoom” _ under his breath. Well, at least that explained the varying sizes of robots. 

“It appears as though there is a civilian in danger,” Karen announced, her robotic voice too calm to be delivering such news.

“What! Where?” Peter asked frantically, head whipping from side to side as he tried to find what Karen was talking about.

“The Hulk doesn't seem to be watching for civilians, and if he continues along his current path, I’ve calculated a ninety-eight-percent probability that he will run into a woman hiding behind a food cart.”

“What? Where is he—oh shit, okay!” Peter exclaimed, his mask showing him a heat signature that looked like someone crouched down and hiding behind an abandoned hot dog cart.

Focusing back on Hulk, Peter watched as the largest Avenger smashed through a series of robots that were clambering around his feet and trying to climb up his legs. He wasn't paying attention to where he was going, blindly swinging out his arms as he fought to get the bots off him. Even without Karen highlighting his current path in a soft yellow marker, Peter could see that if he kept going the way he was he would undoubtedly run into the person hiding.

_ Shit.  _ Okay, that was fine. Peter took a deep breath and gave himself a single moment to freak out before he was off, springing backwards and then racing forward to jump off the roof and dive towards the Hulk. He caught himself on a web at the last minute to curb his free-fall. As soon as he hit the ground he took off running, jumping over a car and then sliding under Captain America's shield as the hairs along his neck stood on end. His head felt like it was going to spin off, his instincts pinging left and right as the fight went on around him and he manoeuvred through danger. 

Jumping over another car, Peter spun in the air and landed lightly on his feet beside a hot dog cart before immediately springing back to his full height and planting his feet, locking his knees tightly in front of the lady screaming for her life as she sobbed incoherently. Hulk was still swinging his arms around blindly, punching through the air without any discretion. 

Peter took a deep breath. Hulk roared loudly and wound his arm back before swinging it forward in a long, racing arc directly at Peter’s body. Without a single thought of himself, his mind only on the woman whose life was in danger, Peter caught Hulk's fist squarely in his hands and ignored the concussive force of it travelling down his palms and throughout his entire body. He groaned under his breath as his knees shook, nearly giving out, and he almost cried out at the pain in his shoulders.

The ear-piercing scream of the lady behind him was easy to tune out as he gritted his teeth and focused his senses on the creature in front of him. Hulk clearly hadn't been expecting someone to catch his fist, and he blinked down at Peter as his mouth dropped open while he panted for air. His whole body was still angled towards Peter and towering over him. His eyes—which Peter noticed for the first time were shot through his lines of gold—stayed locked on where Peter was essentially cradling his fist in his hands.

Peter stumbled back, dropping Hulk's hand as he fought to keep himself from completely falling over. That would definitely  _ not _ be cool, so Peter breathed through the nearly overwhelming pain radiating from his entire body. The green limb swung limply back towards Hulk and settled at his side as if it was just hanging off his body. The—Peter wasn't even sure  _ what _ to call him, not really; both monster and creature sounded too negative even in his own mind—Hulk was still staring at him, and he looked almost... awed. It was pretty easy to figure out why. 

After all, Peter knew he was small. Still, he was all tightly packed, lean muscle that had developed during years of web-swinging and villain-fighting, and that wasn’t even taking into account the super-strength. Honestly, he was pretty used to being underestimated due to his size, so it really wasn’t that much of a surprise that Hulk was staring at him in what seemed to be complete confusion. 

Hulk let out a questioning noise, curling his body forward as he stared intently at Peter.

Peter tried for a smile and then said, “Hey there big green. Watch out for civilians, alright?” He did his best to keep his voice as even as possible while his whole body was still throbbing in pain.  _ Everything hurt.  _ Peter could feel the way his fingers had fractured under the force of Hulk's punch and his grimace was hidden by his mask as the bones slowly knit back together.

“Hulk not smash?” he asked, his mouth closing and twisting down into a frown. It was kind of... cute, actually, with the way his eyebrows were pulled low over his eyes in what was pretty obvious confusion.

Peter took a deep breath and then followed it with another, doing his best to calm his still-racing heart and stop the adrenaline pumping through his veins. “You can smash as much as you want, big guy, but only smash the robots!”

“Hulk smash bots!” he roared, and the obvious glee in his voice made Peter smile behind his mask despite how he still felt. God, could his healing not work just a  _ little bit faster? _

_ “ _ Good job, buddy!” Peter called, taking a step backwards to rejoin the fight and then changing his mind when his knees protested. “Hey, can you give me a lift?”

Hulk tilted his head to the side, looking for all the world like a confused puppy, which was  _ definitely  _ adorable. “Lift?”

“Yep!” Peter called. His left arm twitched at his side and he raised it without a conscious thought, the web he fired catching an advancing robot on the 'head'. He yanked down, smashing the bot into the street hard enough that its head cracked open. Perfect. “Karen, switch to bullet-webs for now,” Peter said under his breath, and then louder as he pointed across the street, “Can you throw me onto that roof?”

Hulk was quiet for a moment before letting out a deep “okay” that was more rumble than word. Peter smiled, though he knew it couldn't be seen through his mask. Hulk crouched even closer, shooting Peter’s heartbeat skyrocketing despite himself. Still, he stepped onto the cradle of Hulk's hand when he held it out flat down near the ground, clearly intending for Peter to step into it.

It was easy to steady himself when he could stick to the guy’s skin. He crouched down even as he took deep, even breaths that barely did anything to calm his racing heart but still gave him something to focus on. Once Peter was steadied he gave Hulk a thumbs up, and the big guy swung his arm up and over his head. Peter jumped, using the momentum from Hulk’s lift to launch himself through the air. He somersaulted mid-way, urging himself forward as he approached the rooftop of the building he was aiming for.

His foot  _ just  _ hit the edge of the building and he leaned forward, using his momentum to carry him over the raised edge before sinking to the ground. He took another deep breath, desperately trying to get his heart rate under control and calm the uneasy fluttering of his stomach. Panic laced his thoughts, moving lower to grip him tightly around his chest even as he laid out on the roof’s floor and spread out his limbs under the bright sun and open air. 

He was fine. H-he was fine. Peter looked up at the sky and it helped to remind him that he wasn't stuck, that he wasn't being weighed down, that he could  _ move _ and he could  _ breathe _ and he—he was okay. Nothing was crushing him under an indescribable force. His bones weren’t being broken faster than they could heal.  _ He was fine. _

“Peter, your heart rate is elevated,” Karen told him urgently, and Peter let out a broken laugh that cut through his throat, sitting up so he could hang his head down between his knees and keep breathing deeply. 

It only took him a few more minutes before his deep breaths actually felt like they were filling his chest and that air was reaching his lungs. On his next inhale he breathed in until his chest burned and then let it out slowly.

When he finally stood, he rose on shaking feet and weak knees, but he still stood. 

“Your fingers are still healing and I would advise against further combat,” Karen told him once he was upright, and not for the first time Peter was sure that he heard emotion in her voice—concern, this time—though he shook his head.

“I'm okay,” he muttered under his breath as he took stock of his body. He could feel his healing working, aware of the way it was knitting his bones back together by the way his fingers were going stiff and tight before relaxing again. 

His panic attack had halted the physical healing until he calmed down but it was only a matter of minutes before he could bend and straighten his fingers with ease. Seconds after that his knees felt solid underneath him. Rolling his shoulders back ensured they were fine as well. With one last breath, Peter jumped backwards, falling through the air and landing lightly on the roof of a car.

Crouching low, Peter’s eyes took in the series of robots that were still milling about all around him, climbing over their wrecked companions as they surged through the streets. 

“I'm okay,” Peter whispered to himself, allocating one last second to breathe before he crouched low and focused his senses in an effort to keep himself from getting overwhelmed. 

Finally, Peter launched himself backwards, flipping off the car and soaring through the air. He landed on the shoulders of a larger sized robot (which,  _ when did that happen)  _ and brought his elbow down viciously, smashing through the metal faceplate without a moment of hesitation. He raised his arm on instinct and fired a series of condensed bullet-webs that sent a handful of smaller bots wheeling away and smashing to the ground. 

Leaning back, he narrowly missed being impaled by a  _ flying robot hand holy shit.  _ He straightened back up, using his momentum to somersault forward and landing square on his feet to immediately punch through the chest of another bot.

Hand to hand was  _ not _ Peter's specialty, but it was easy enough to send the robots flying with a single, super-powered punch. He put his body weight behind each one, letting his strength out in a way he wasn't often able to. He’d never go after a human villain the way he was going after these robots. It felt good, not having to hold himself in or monitor his strength the way he  _ always _ had to do. It was exhilarating, and he continued to push himself as fast as he could, whirling around as he took out hordes of robots with webs and fists.

They didn't seem to be stopping or slowing down, no matter how many Peter went through. Swearing to himself, Peter jumped into the air and swung further down the street to get out of the pile of destroyed robots he was in. Damn, he’d gone through so many but it didn’t even seem to make a dent. 

Peter sucked in a sharp breath when he noticed the large robot coming his way. Crap, that... was not good. It was the biggest robot that he’d seen, towering  _ at least _ fifteen feet tall. Peter didn’t waste a second before he was swinging forward and webbing its legs together. He swung around the robot in a wide arch, shooting out webs and wrapping long streams of webbing around its legs. 

Swinging his legs up, Peter got another burst of speed that he used to propel himself around the robot one last time before angling himself towards the street. Peter landed in a crouch and flexed his feet to stick them to the pavement. Bracing himself, he pulled strongly, straining until the robot toppled over. As the robot was careening towards the ground Peter was jumping into the air and gliding over it, webbing its arms to the street to stop it from getting up.

“Spider-Man?” Peter turned towards the disapproving voice as he straightened up, surprised to find  _ Captain America _ addressing him.

Huh. Peter crouched down, much more comfortable in a defensive position even if it might not look like one to others. The last time he had seen the  _ great _ Captain, they’d been fighting each other on opposite sides of the battle that tore the Avengers apart. Now, Captain America’s face was pulled down into an angry frown under his cowl. 

Whatever. Captain America could look at him as angrily as he freaking wanted. What Peter did know about Captain America and his part in the “Civil War” (so dubbed by popular media and totally ridiculous) wasn’t good. From the few things that had been said by Tony and Happy in Peter’s range of hearing, the biggest conflict had been between the Captain and Tony Stark. 

He wasn't going to give him the benefit of the doubt now, not when he knew that Tony didn't feel safe in his own home because of him. Well, at least Peter was pretty sure that's how Tony felt. Super-hearing and an AI best friend both had their perks, but he wasn’t totally sure since Tony tended to keep his feeling close to his chest and guarded by iron. 

“Did you want something, Cap?” Peter asked, cocking a brow behind his mask when the man’s frown deepened. 

“What are you doing here?” Captain America asked angrily and shifted until he was standing with his hands on his hips, shoulders squared and looking every bit of intimidating superhero that he was. 

Ugh. Okay, apparently he didn’t just do that in teaching videos. Rolling his eyes, Peter didn't say anything for a minute so he could turn his whole body around and look back at the robot he had just taken down. With his voice as deadpan as he could make it, he said, “I'm fighting.”

“We don't need any help, kid. You shouldn't be here,” he told him condescendingly and Peter rolled his eyes under his mask again. God, he was  _ so _ patronizing.

Peter once again looked back to the robot he had just taken down as his mind flashed to the woman he’d saved, and rolled his eyes again. “Duly noted,” he parroted back, lacing his voice with as much sarcasm as he could push into it.

Peter hadn't seen any of the other Avengers, even if he knew they were out there somewhere. It was strange for them all to be fighting at once but now that Peter was down on the streets and trying to deal with the robots himself, he understood why they were there. These robots literally had no chill. Peter shot a bullet web out and took out a robot that had been right behind Captain America, who whirled around with an outraged noise before he spotted the steaming scrap of metal Peter had taken out for him. 

Just as Captain America was spinning back around, his mouth already open, Hulk roared loudly enough that it shook the street. Peter turned towards the noise, focusing on the blur of green that was still smashing robots—and cars—to pieces.

“You should probably make sure he doesn't hurt anyone,” Peter told him and then didn’t bother waiting for the Captain to respond. 

He launched himself upwards from his crouched position, backflipping through the air in a move that was purely for show. As soon as his feet hit the ground he was throwing out a web, launching himself away from Captain America and twirling through the air dramatically. He took out robots even as he moved through the streets, heart racing with adrenaline as robots just kept coming and coming and coming. 

“What are you doing here, kid?” Tony's voice crackled through his mask and Peter looked up in time to catch him flying overhead, his suit glistening in the sun. Honestly, Peter couldn't say he was surprised that Tony had waited until he was done speaking with the Captain before he said anything.

“Just helping out!” he called, jumping over a robot the length of a car. He landed in a crouch, muttered  _ “laser web” _ and fired, holding on to the webbing until the bot was nothing but a charred, smoking pile of metal. “Do we know where they keep coming from?”

“They seem to be spilling out of the truck,” Tony told him and Peter spun his head around when Karen directed him, finding himself near the building he’d first landed on and much closer to the truck than he'd realized after getting away from Captain America.

Huh, alright. 

“Got it!” Peter called, throwing out his arm and shooting a web, pulling tight and using it to slingshot himself forward. 

It was easy enough to swing over the piles of metal that were littering the New York streets which had become a sea of half-dead and still-moving robots. There wasn't much fighting happening over here even though it would have been closest to the initial crash site, but Peter could still easily hear the sound of battle from around him. 

Perching on the side of a building, Peter stuck his palm to the wall and held himself steady as he switched to grenade-webs. The truck was still smoking an odd, green-tinted smoke that was rising in a thick column, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been when Peter first arrived. The opening seemed wider than it’d been when Peter had first seen it and bots were spilling out lethargically, slowly pulling themselves out of the wreckage and spilling onto the street.

They were clearly not very smart. Peter was a little miffed that Doom sent out what were essentially stupid attack dogs, especially when the resulting battle had caused as much as this one had caused so far. Karen was running new statistics in the corner of his vision and the amount of damage was astronomical. Peter took a deep breath, letting his mask zoom in so he could get a better look at the carved-out whole on the truck’s side.

“Uh, Karen?” Peter asked, briefly wondering why she’d been so quiet for the last little bit when she generally chatted with him as he was fighting.

“Yes Peter?” she asked back, as prompt as ever. It made him smile under his mask, just a small twist of his lips.

“Do you think filling the truck with webbing would work to stop whatever the heck is generating the robots?”

There was a brief pause before, “There is a ninety-three-percent chance that your plan will work,” Karen told him clearly. Peter mentally fist-bumped, feeling a little flush of pride that his plan was going to work.

With Karen's help, it was easy to aim exactly where he needed the webs to go and he held himself steady as he started to fire grenade-webs into the truck’s hole, little strings of stray webbing flying through the air. With his enhanced hearing, Peter could hear the metal ting every time one of the tiny, metal beads hit the inside of the truck and burst open to spray out mass amounts of webbing. He didn't stop, not until webbing was spilling out and filling the truck, each little grenade-web having exploded open to fill the whole truck with his webbing.

He switched to a heavier webbing with a single word with Karen and shot over the opening, reinforcing the webbed-in entrance to ensure that no more robots would be able to get out. Jumping off the building, he landed lightly near the truck and began picking off the remaining few stray robots; it was easy to rip them apart and easier still to web them down. With a decisive nod, he left the rest for the Avengers, slingshotting himself into the sky so he could perch on a roof’s edge and watch as the rest of the robots were dealt with.

“Good job, kid,” Tony praised him, sounding genuinely proud, smile evident in his voice.

Peter fought down a blush at the praise, ignoring the way his cheeks felt warm while still letting a smile stretch across his lips happily. “Thank you.”

“Why don't you head out? I'll see you for dinner this weekend, right?” Tony asked in a way that made Peter feel warm. 

He’d never get over the fact that the man he had spent so many years looking up to was checking in with him to make sure he would still be attending their weekly dinner night. Hell, the fact that they  _ had _ a weekly dinner night was mind-blowing enough, even if it was a tradition they’d been observing for nearly two years. 

“Yeah, Mr. Stark. I'll be there!” Peter chirped, jumping off the roof’s edge and beginning his trip back to his apartment, following the random, drawn-out route Karen outlined to help ensure that no one would be able to follow him. 

There was a moment of silence wherein Tony was most likely fighting, before he asked, “And you're bringing that pretty Aunt of yours, right?”

“Yes, Tony, I’ll bring May,” Peter told him laughing, even though he wasn't  _ completely  _ sure whether or not Tony was kidding.

Sure, May might have come with him every now and again, but other than a few off-hand comments when they’d first met, Tony had never made any sort of move on her. Tony was a  _ flirt,  _ something that was well ingrained in his reputation for a reason. Hell, Peter had seen Tony flirt with  _ super-villains  _ in the past. It really might not mean anything but... 

But, sometimes Peter caught him staring a bit too long—and so did May, if the way she’d start to blush meant anything.

“Get home safe, kid,” Tony told him, and the “you too, Dad” was on the tip of his tongue before Peter bit into his own lip to keep the words in. Nope.  _ Nope, _ that was not something that Peter was  _ ever _ going to say to Tony.

Instead, he replied in kind, asking Karen to switch off his comms as he swung home.

* * *

Peter landed lightly on his fire escape, balancing on his toes with barely a sound. He didn't crawl inside his window like he normally would, making no move forward. He didn't want to show that this was his apartment. Something was causing him to feel off, an uneasy feeling sitting in the back of his throat, thrumming along his temple, that he couldn't get rid of. He tried to remember just when it had started but he couldn't, not when he was still hopped-up on adrenaline from the fight. 

His skin felt too tight, stretched thin over his bones in a way that had his heart racing.

After a bit more thought Peter realized that he'd felt like this for the entire trip home. Swearing, he spun around and let his instincts take over as he pointed his hand down and shot a web. Eyes widening in surprise, Peter let out a noise of surprise when he saw the metal fist that was now stuck to the building across from him. Peter cocked his head to the side, mask zooming in for him as Karen confirmed the man's identity in his ear.

Peter dropped to the street and landed with his knees crossed, taking a small, slow step forward, wondering what the hell James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes was doing following him home from a fight that Peter hadn't even seen him at.

“Um, did you follow me?” Peter asked, debating with himself on what to do next. He'd never spoken with the Winter Soldier before—not counting the barbs they had traded during the fight at the hanger—and he wasn't sure how to react to knowing the man had followed him home and, probably, knew where he lived.

The man didn't say anything, opting to stare at Peter unblinkingly, his lips twisted down into a scowl that was visible since he wasn’t wearing his usual mouth covering. The way he was watching Peter was  _ more _ than a bit disconcerting, especially because Peter had no idea what the man wanted, why he was here, or how he had followed him home. It wasn't that he was scared, knowing that despite his past he  _ was _ now an Avenger who signed the Accords and followed laws, as much as he was worried. 

He just  _ really  _ didn't want to fight him and he  _ really  _ didn't want to have to worry about the  _ Winter Soldier _ knowing where he and May lived, signed Accords or not. 

He stopped just outside of the Soldier's reach, feeling uneasy at being as close as he was. The hair along the back of his neck was on end just from being so close, and Peter tried not to let it show, keeping his back straight and his limbs relaxed. Even still, he was hyper-focusing on the... hero? assassin? that was standing in front of him. The Soldier did nothing but stare back unblinkingly (which,  _ damn, _ didn’t he need to blink, like, ever?) and Peter tried to ignore the growing unease that was settling in his belly. 

He was fine. He was going to be fine.

“You were a threat,” Winter finally told him, his words rumbling thickly out of his chest, voice scratchy from obvious disuse. Wow, okay, that was threatening. 

_ “Excuse me?” _

“With the Cap—Steve. With Steve, you were a threat,” the man’s eyebrows were pulled down over his face and Peter couldn't help but think that his exaggerated pout was a little cute. Sure, he was a murderous assassin, but he was still kinda hot. 

“Yeah, well, those were special circumstances, dude. It wasn't like we wanted to fight you guys,” Peter said, some of the unease dissipating at the confused look that crossed Winter’s face as some of the tension in his body eased.

“But Steve said—”

“I'm sure Captain said a lot of things, but there's always two sides to a story,” Peter cut in, not at all wanting to hear about what Steve Rogers may have said about Tony. There was a reason Peter didn't like him, after all.

“I—you were a threat,” Winter repeated. He looked so lost and sounded so confused that Peter's heart ached for him. He couldn't even imagine what it must have been like to go through all everything that he had, to commit horrors under somebody else's control and never be able to do anything about it. The fact that he was even willing to still be a hero, to still fight, was... well, it was pretty impressive. 

Peter took another step forward and in a moment of probably-reckless bravery, pulled off his mask and raised out a hand. “I'm Peter. What's your name?“

“Uh, it is... it is Bucky?“ Winter’s voice raised at the end as he stared at Peter’s hand intently. Peter had to wonder if this was the first time that Winter had told someone his name. 

“You don't sound so sure, dude?” Peter asked, not dropping his hand until Winter held his out and shook it. He kept his grip loose and body language open, an easy smile pulling at his lips as he looked up into Winter’s dark eyes, surrounded by black eye-makeup.

“They all call me Bucky,” was said with the same lost, confused tone of voice that made Peter want to take home a terrifying, grown man and cuddle him until he felt better.

“Oka—ay, but what do you  _ want  _ to be called? Because I keep calling you Winter in my head, and I'm not quite sure if that's what you want,” Peter told him as he awkwardly shifted his weight from foot to foot.

The other man didn't say anything for a while, and silence stretched between them. Peter waited as Winter seemed deep in thought, not wanting to disrupt whatever it was the man was seemingly working through. He didn’t have anywhere to rush off to since he was still supposed to be in school, so he stood still with his arms resting at his sides and watching Winter. It hurt, seeing someone so openly struggling with something like telling him his  _ name.  _ At the same time, Peter was sure he wasn't meant to see any of this and that if Winter knew he was being so expressive he would shut down.

Peter waited patiently, watching as a series of emotions played out of the man's face. He finally settled on something... not happy, really, but less conflicted than what Peter had seen so far. A tension eased out of his shoulders, and it made Peter happy in a way he hadn't been expecting. Winter wasn't a friend, wasn't anything  _ close _ to being a friend, but Peter was as happy for him as if he was.

“I'd like to be called James,” he finally decided on and Peter felt a huge smile pull at his lips.

“Alright, James,” Peter told him happily, reaching out his hand for another handshake now that he could officially greet him. “It's nice to meet you.”

“You too,” James said, and Peter ignored how his voice raised at the end, making it sound more like a question than it was probably meant to be. His smile still didn’t waiver, feeling incredibly happy for someone he barely knew. 

“So,” Peter began, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly, “why exactly did you follow me home?”

“You were a threat,” James told him plainly and at Peter's questioning frown he went on. “I don’t know who you are or anything about you. That made you a threat to me and the people I care about. I need to know more about you.”

“Oh,” Peter breathed, a question bouncing about his head that he wasn’t sure he was ready for the answer to. He couldn't help the way he was starting to like James and he only hoped the other man would like him back. “Uh, am I still a threat?”

The smile on James' face was small, barely tugging up the corner of his lips, but it was  _ gorgeous  _ for the way it transformed his entire face. The way his whole expression relaxed made him look like a completely different person, younger and lighter, and Peter couldn't help but grin back at him. “Nah, not anymore.”

“Oh,“ Peter repeated, but this time his tone was the complete opposite of what it’d been before. A smile stretched over his face and he didn't try to pull it down, especially when James smiled back at him, small but sure.

“Thank you,” James said, and Peter titled his head.

“For what?“

“No one has asked me what I would like to be called before,” James told him, and while Peter could have guessed that was the case, the confirmation still made his heart ache.

“I'm sorry,” Peter told him, and he meant it. He couldn't even imagine what James had been through but even more than that, he couldn’t even imagine how hard it must be for him now that everything was over and everyone had expectations of him. “If—” Peter began, tripping over his own words with nervous energy, “if you ever want to do something, or, like, hang out? Maybe? I don't know what your schedule is like, of course, but if you ever wanted to do something or have someone to spend time with that wasn’t one of the Avengers I would be happy, like so happy, if you wanted, to—”

“Could you show me around?” James cut him off to ask him eagerly, and Peter let out a little sigh of relief. “New York is nothin' like it used t' be.”

“Sure!” Peter said, forcing himself to stand still and not excitedly hop in place. “Do you want my number? You could text me when you're free.”

“Uh,” James started, trailing off before he stared at the ground awkwardly. Peter realized that the man's hand was still stuck to the wall and he quickly walked forward to get him unstuck, pulling a tube of dissolvent off his waist to pour over the webs keeping him stuck to the wall. “Thanks,” James told him once he was free, using his metal hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I... uh, I don't know my phone number?”

“Oh!” Peter exclaimed and immediately wanted to smack himself in the face. God, he was not usually this ridiculous.  _ Stupidly attractive assassins. _ “Here, if you give me your phone, I can give you my number?”

“Alright.”

James pulled his phone out of one of the many, many pockets that adorned his attire and handed it over to Peter easily. The sign of trust made him smile again, and Peter swiped the phone open before going to the contact app. It was quick work to add his name and number and he sent himself a text so he could do the same for James before handing his phone back.

“Here, I sent myself a text so I have your number too,” Peter told him, the easy smile still pulling at his lips.

“I... alright. Thank you, Peter,” James said with a heaviness to his voice that made Peter think he was talking about more than just his offer to show the man around the city.

“I should probably go,” Peter told him, taking a half step back but offering a smile. “Text me whenever you want, okay? I always have my phone on me!”

Before Peter could embarrass himself any further— _ really, text me whenever you want? Goddammit, Parker, he's an  _ Avenger _ what were you thinking— _ he flung his arm back, shooting out a web and pulling it taught, sling-shooting himself backward. He didn't look back as he climbed into his window, stepping out of his suit even as he asked himself what the hell he’d just done by befriending the  _ Winter Soldier. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

Peter yawned widely, slowly climbing the front steps of his school, and cursed the fact that he could feel so tired even with superpowers. It didn't make any sense to him: he could climb up walls and stop moving cars, but dare he get less than four hours of sleep and it felt like he was going to  _ die.  _ Peter was pretty sure that his super-healing should have done something about how tired he always felt, but nope. He could only  _ wish _ to be so lucky.

The school was busy—Midtown always was—filled with bright students who looked strongly towards their futures (at least, that’s what their promotional material said). If his life-changing spider bite had done  _ nothing else, _ it had at least improved his balance and coordination and Peter could make his way through crowded hallways without worrying about getting toppled over. 

(Of course, it also helped that if someone knocked into him  _ they _ were more likely to get knocked down than Peter was.)

Peter got to his locker easily enough, twirling the dial of his lock as he blearily blinked down at the numbers even as he worked on autopilot. If asked, Peter would have no idea which exact numbers he was trying to hit, but a firm tug—though just a regular amount of firm, no super-strength here—got the lock opened. Slipping his bag from his shoulder he unloaded his books, piling them neatly into his hanging locker organizer before dropping the empty bag to the bottom.

Pulling his phone from his back pocket, Peter clicked it on for the fourth time that morning. All that met him was his screen saver—a fun, colourful picture of Iron Man and Spider-Man he’d found online—but no notifications waiting for him. Frowning, he placed his phone on the top shelf and told himself to stop being so silly. It was fine that James hadn't texted him yet. Hell, it was  _ normal _ that James hadn't texted him yet. It’d only been, like, twelve hours and most of the hours were night hours, so they didn’t even count. 

But, even knowing that, Peter couldn't stop the little thrill of worry that climbed up his spine and made his chest feel tight every time he checked his phone and didn’t have a notification.

He felt  _ so _ foolish worrying about someone like  _ the Winter Soldier,  _ but he couldn't help it. All he could think of was how grateful James had sounded yesterday, how he’d looked like Peter was giving him some sort of gift, just by letting the man choose his own identity, just because Peter asked him his name. 

Had  _ no one _ asked him that? That was what it had seemed like, since James had been so surprised when Peter asked him what he wanted to be called that he’d had to  _ think _ about his answer. It still broke his heart, thinking that somebody who had been forced to be someone else for so long could possibly have the same done to him by people he called friends.

If he was going by Bucky even if it didn’t fit... did that mean the Captain was the one forcing him into an identity that he didn’t want? Goddammit, Peter let out a long sigh as he told himself that he absolutely did not have enough time to be worrying about this, especially since it wasn’t even eight in the morning. Hell, he didn’t know enough to be making assumptions like that anyway. 

Rolling his shoulders, Peter started an internal mantra of,  _ “He’s fine. He’s an assassin. He’s been trained to kill people. He’s fine.”  _ On his fourth run through, he grabbed his phone from the top shelf of his locker and checked it again. 

Still, nothing. 

Damn. Alright, that was fine. Peter was fine, and James was definitely fine, even though he had followed Peter home and reached out to him, looking lost and sounding even worse, not even knowing his name. That... there was something about that which bothered Peter to no end, especially having read  _ all _ the official and not-so-official documentation surrounding the Winter Soldier when James first became an Avenger (James wasn’t the only one who’d seen the other as a threat).

James had made it pretty clear that he would be texting Peter. It was possible,  _ very possible, _ that James had never texted anyone before. Peter considered that he might not even know  _ how, _ and then it wasn’t like he was  _ ignoring  _ Peter, he was just trying to figure out his phone. Yes. Yes, alright, that seemed like a pretty solid idea that Peter told himself again and again even while he checked his phone just to  _ still _ not have any new messages. 

He knew he was overreacting, it was just... James had reached out to him, in a way. He’d followed Peter home and he’d looked so lost and Peter—he knew that James wasn’t his responsibility. He knew that he didn’t  _ have _ to care about his well-being after they’d shared no more than a single conversation but... he couldn’t help but feel  _ a little  _ responsible. 

All he wanted was to make sure that James was okay. 

But James had said that he would text and Peter had to believe he would when he was ready, when he wanted to,  _ whenever _ that was. It didn’t make him feel any calmer, but he tried to push away the anxious feeling closing around his throat as he breathed deeply and slowly, once again surprised by just how much he seemed to care about someone who, really, was nothing more than a stranger.

Before he could do something infinitely silly like check his phone again, Peter's fingers cramped as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He had to roll his shoulders very gently to calm the flight or fight instinct that was tensing his entire body as he stood in front of his locker. The last thing he needed was to do something like jump onto the ceiling out of reflex, so he slipped his phone into his pocket and grabbed the books he would need for his morning classes before he started counting down from five under his breath.

“Hey, Peter!” Ned called enthusiastically from inches next to his ear, loud and sudden enough that Peter would have jumped if his senses weren’t pinging ‘ _ threat’ _ from having someone so close at his back. A small smirk pulled his lips up as his senses finally calmed down now that Ned had identified himself—seriously his best friend was the least threatening person Peter knew—and he stayed completely still, not even letting his breath hitch. 

Ned let out a long sigh and Peter could perfectly imagine his frown as he said, “You're no fun anymore, man.”

Peter turned with a smile already on his face. “Maybe you're just not as good at sneaking around as you always thought you were?”

“Uh,  _ or _ you just have an unnameable advantage that no one else has?”

Peter tilted his head as if he was considering it. “Yeah, you're probably right,” he agreed while nodding, closing his locker door before securing his lock. He turned to face Ned fully, his lips pulling up into a full smile at the sight of his best friend. “How are you?”

_ “I'm  _ fine,” Ned said, and Peter saw the lingering worry around his friends' eyes and knocked their shoulders together as they began down the hallway. “I grabbed your clothes yesterday but I left them at home for you.”

Which was fair, considering the number of people that already thought he and Ned were dating. Ned bringing him a bag of worn clothes probably wouldn’t look the best. 

“Thank you for getting my stuff, dude. You have no idea how much of a help it is when you do that,” Peter told him genuinely. Ned seemed to do for Peter whatever it was that he needed, whenever he needed it, and he would never stop being thankful for having a friend as amazing as Ned.

“I'm just fulfilling my guy in the chair duties,” Ned murmured, but Peter caught the hint of a smile that pulled up his best friend's lip and soaked up the warmness in his chest.

Peter stayed quiet as they walked, letting Ned fill him in on the goings-on of his life. There wasn't much to tell, considering they saw each other  _ every day, _ but he did listen intently as Ned updated him on the guild he was a part of. Just because he didn't have time for video games didn't mean that he didn't like hearing about them and Peter knew that Ned spent about as much time online as Peter did out patrolling.

And just because they spent their time doing different things didn’t mean that Ned’s hobbies were any less important than Peter’s own. Sometimes, when he was down and tired and it all felt like too much, Peter imagined what it would be like to still just be a regular teenager. To not have any of the power or the responsibility that came along with it. At least when he was with Ned, he could pretend that he could still have time for things as fun and carefree as video games.

They sat in their usual lab seats, letting the class fill up around them as they discussed the pros and cons of using a tank versus a mage for raids. When their teacher walked in they naturally switched to whispering, getting themselves set up for class by familiar routine. The beginning of class was spent going over their homework, which was just a review of their lesson from the day before, which meant that Peter and Ned spent it talking, whispering to one another as they pretended to pay attention to review.

“So, what happened yesterday?” Ned asked him excitedly even as his voice got even quieter than the low murmur he had been speaking in. 

The question was one that Peter had been expecting since Ned first appeared behind him. Ned  _ always  _ checked in with him, even if it had been a boring night of uneventful patrol,  _ of course  _ he would check in after an actual  _ battle.  _ While Peter didn’t need to lean in to hear him, not with his enhanced senses, but he still tilted his head to the side so when he finally answered Ned would be able to hear him better, appreciating how quiet Ned was being. 

Peter sighed as he recounted the fight, rolling his eyes at the sheer ridiculousness of what had happened even as he explained, “I guess Doctor Doom unleashed a bunch of, like, mindless robots in the city? There was a giant truck that flipped over, and robots were just spewing out of it. That was where the smoke cloud had come from.”

“Dude! Doctor Doom?” Ned whispered back heatedly, turning his face to give Peter a look of pure excitement before turning back to face the front of the class again. 

“Yeah, that's what Karen told me. I didn't see him or anything, just all the damn robots. I didn't stay as long as the others ‘cause I left after dealing with the truck,” Peter whispered back, pretending to write in his notebook as their teacher prattled on.

“Why not? What did you do?” 

Peter felt his face start to warm when he remembered the day before,  _ especially _ what had happened when he first arrived. But it was just  _ Ned, _ and it wasn't like they didn't tell each other embarrassing things every day anyway. “Uh, well when I first got there I sort of fell onto a roof.”

“What? How did you do that? How do you fall  _ onto  _ a roof?” Ned asked him quickly. Peter could see how he was trying not to laugh, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Landing is really hard, okay?” Peter asked incredulously, ignoring Ned's additional murmur of  _ “that's why you need to let me help you practice” _ as he kept going, “But! After that, I saved this civilian and met the Hulk, and he threw me onto the roof—”

“What do you mean  _ the Hulk threw you onto a roof _ ? _ ”  _ Ned whisper-shouted, his eyes going wider than Peter had ever seen them before.

“Um, exactly that dude!” Peter told him in his own  _ too _ enthusiastic whisper-shout, his voice getting loud enough that the teacher called his name with an annoyed look on his face. He sent the man an apologetic look, mouthing a “sorry” as he angled himself a little further from Ned to at least  _ pretend _ he was paying attention.

Only a few minutes had passed before Ned was leaning closer and whispering, “How did that even happen?”

“Well,” Peter started before launching into a retelling of the previous afternoon. 

He told Ned all about his crash landing, letting Ned snicker at him without getting upset. He knew that Ned wasn't making fun of him but laughing with him. He told Ned about how Karen had alerted him to the civilian and how she’d almost been crushed before he’d jumped in front of her  _ right _ in time to catch Hulk's fist. He went into detail about how his fingers had fractured, the bones in his hands needing time to heal and how he had asked Hulk to throw him up onto a roof so he could take a second to heal. 

Peter couldn't hold down the smile that stole over his face when he thought about the way Hulk had acted like a confused and adorable puppy.

“That is so cool,” Ned gushed, staring at Peter with even wider eyes. He felt his face go warm as something twisted in his belly. He knew that Ned got really excited over these things, but Peter really didn't think it was anything too special. Sure, it  _ was _ cool; the little boy who looked up to Iron Man as the greatest thing in the world thought it was awesome, but it was different in the moment, when he was the one there. “What did you do after that?”

Peter took a deep breath and pushed away the uneasy feeling in his stomach. “Well, once my fingers healed I went back down and kind of just beat up some robots? I had this weird moment with Captain America—”  _ “Holy crap Captain America talked to you?” _ “—that was kind of strange. Like, he was trying to tell me that I shouldn't be there? He was acting like some sort of angry Dad, which is totally Tony’s job and  _ not  _ his, ya know? He doesn’t even know who I am! And besides, I wasn’t just going to leave when people needed help and I was able to help them? So then I destroyed some more robots.”

“Wow,” Ned said with so much feeling that Peter chuckled quietly, ducking his head when his teacher caught his eye.

He sent Ned a smile but then turned his focus back to the front of the room where their teacher had begun the lesson for the day. Peter liked talking about this stuff with Ned, really, but sometimes it left an odd feeling in the back of his throat, a strange uneasiness sitting in the pit of his stomach, a twitch in his fingers. To Ned, everything that Peter did when out as Spider-Man was fun and exciting. It was riveting for him to hear about Peter’s “adventures.”

And even though Peter knew that Ned really did worry about him when he was out, it was different.

Ned really was the guy in the chair. He was never out there, in the heat of a fight of patrolling the streets at night. He... he was never the reason someone lived or not. He would never be the one who was too slow, or too weak, or just  _ not enough.  _ Every time Peter stepped into his suit,  _ every single time _ he put his mask on, fear raced up his spine as he thought about all the things that could go wrong, all the people who get hurt, all the lives that could be lost, all because of him. 

There was so much that Peter was always so, so worried about. Every single time he went out, people’s lives were in his hands. Their well-being was his responsibility and sometimes... well, sometimes he wasn’t enough. But he couldn't just do nothing. If someone got hurt because he didn’t take action or because he was too afraid to step in... well, that would be even worse than if he had at least  _ tried _ . 

He had this unimaginable power. Power that was so much, much more than he knew what to do with, and he wasn't going to let it go to waste. He  _ couldn’t.  _ Not when great power came with great responsibility. 

Peter startled when the bell rang, the loud screech pulling him from his thought spiral. He cussed mentally, hastily packing up his bag as he realized that he’d spent the entire lesson zoning out. He was just glad that he had his mask in his bag and that, worst case, he could ask Karen to replay the audio for him that night. 

Moving quickly so it wouldn’t seem like he’d just clued back in after spending the entire class lost in his own thoughts, he followed Ned out of the classroom and into the bustling halls, trusting the other boy to lead them to their next class.

“What a year,” Ned told him as they left the class and started walking side-by-side, bumping their shoulders together.

“Yeah,” Peter murmured back, and then took a deep breath and did his best to shake off his morbid mood. There was no point in thinking about all that now, especially when he needed to focus during school so he wouldn’t fall any further behind than he already was. “It hasn't been too crazy. Usually my nights are not that exciting,” Peter reminded him, but Ned shook his head.

“Dude, no way. Our lives are  _ crazy,” _ Ned said emphatically, and Peter nodded along as he didn’t have enough energy to argue, “Not only are we graduating in less than two months, but you're a freaking  _ superhero! _ Freshman Ned  _ never _ thought that we would be living such exciting lives.”

Peter laughed, looking over at his friend with a full heart. Despite everything that they’d gone through over the last two years, he still had Ned’s endless enthusiasm at his side. Yep, he'd lucked out. “Me neither, man, me neither.”

* * *

After just over a year of visiting Tony almost every day, Peter no longer walked into Stark Tower (the press had had a field day when the logo on the tower hadn’t changed back to the obnoxious “A” even though the “team” was back together; Peter was glad he’d been able to talk Tony into keeping it) with the same wide-eyed, awed sort of reverence that he had for the first handful of months of their “internship.” But, even as used to the glitz and glam of the Tower as he was, the elevator ride up to Tony's personal level would always leave him a bit breathless with excitement.

Even being Spider-Man, being Iron Man's unofficial protégé, nothing made Peter as happy as being able to say that he was  _ friends _ with Tony Stark. He wasn't sure if Tony would say the same or if he would put the same label on their relationship that Peter used, but he knew that Tony cared about him. Of course, the man still treated him like a child, but he  _ cared, _ and that meant more to Peter than any superhero business ever would.

He’d looked up to Iron Man since he first appeared on television, flying around in a gleaming suit of metal that was an engineer’s  _ dream, _ but he’d looked up to Tony Stark for years before that. Shutting down the weapons division of Stark Industries had only been possible because, for years before that, Tony had been making changes to the company that were all rarely talked about. 

Green energy, innovative education, cutting edge prosthetics. Stark Industries had been moving into the global industry long before Tony Stark stopped their weapon production, and Peter had followed it all as well as he could as a young child who wanted nothing more than to make the world a better place. Tony was the entire reason that Peter even liked  _ science, _ and having a chance to get to know that man was the greatest thing that had ever happened to Peter. 

Knowing Tony also came with opportunities he would have never been presented with otherwise and he was endlessly thankful. He knew he’d never be able to even  _ think _ about paying Tony back for all that he’d been given him and all that he’d allowed him to do and learn, but he would appreciate every single thing Tony did for him, and he would never stop being grateful.

Just this internship alone was an opportunity that no one else would  _ ever _ have. He knew that personally interning with  _ Tony Stark _ would carry a considerable amount of weight—well, it would carry a considerable amount of weight anywhere other than  _ high school  _ where no one ever believed him—and it would open up a number of doors in his future that he never would have had access to. 

And that was all because of Tony. All because he cared. And when Tony cared for someone, he gave and gave, everything that he could and sometimes then some. Peter was so appreciative and he would never stop trying to pay him back in any way he could, because he’d seen what happened when people took that generosity for granted. Stories he’d heard from Mr. Rhodey had just confirmed his suspicions, and Peter had vowed years ago to never be one of the people who took Tony for granted. 

Humming, he focused on the fact that he could appreciate Tony and be there for him in any way he needed. 

As Peter walked through the Stark tower now, he felt more comfortable than he’d ever been able to imagine during his first few visits. To get to Tony’s personal floors he had to use a specific elevator that took a security badge, passcode, fingerprint  _ and _ a retina scan just to get the doors to open, and he knew just how few people had access to it. The rock music blaring from the speakers put a smile on his face as he pulled out his phone, leaning back against the glass wall. 

His text tone rang out as he scrolled through Instagram and hope climbed up from his belly, excitement curling along his spine as the notification popped up. Peter deflated when he saw May's name with a message wishing him a good night with Tony, and while it was sweet, it wasn't the text he had been waiting for. Peter thumbed the message open, typing out a reply as he exited the elevator on autopilot once the door’s dinged open. 

He was still typing as he turned a corner, making his way towards Tony’s lounge room to drop off his bag and see if he was there before making his way down to the lab. He swiped back into Instagram, liking a photo MJ posted of a cityscape and starting to type out a comment when— 

Gasping, Peter let out a loud, startled shriek as he collided head-on with someone, stumbling back a step in surprise.

“My apologies,” a man with a nice, soft timbre to his voice said. Peter looked up, his eyes widening in shock as a dark blush painted over his cheeks. He put his phone away, focusing his  _ full _ attention on that man before him as his heart started racing. 

“Oh. Oh my gosh. Wow, you are. You’re... oh my god you’re D-Dr. Bruce Banner. Sir, I am  _ so _ sorry. I-I, wow, I wasn't—jeez, I was so not watching where I was going. Uhm, a-are you okay? Please tell me you're okay, oh goodness, I really hope I didn’t hurt you, did I? Did you drop anything? No, okay, that’s good, that’s good. Are you okay?” Peter’s words rushed out of him in one long breath, until he couldn't speak and had to suck in another sharp breath of air as his eyes traced over  _ Bruce Banner’s _ face, taking in the lines around his eyes and the strong jut of his jaw and the breadth of his shoulders because—

_ Shit, _ seriously hot older man alert. 

“I'm alright,” the man—who, holy hell, was  _ Dr. Bruce Banner this was not a drill— _ told him calmly,  _ much _ calmer than Peter was who was currently  _ freaking out.  _ Still, Peter felt a little less embarrassed when he saw that the older man's face was flushed pink. His eyes tracked over Peter’s form in a way that made him _ very _ glad that most of his shirts bordered on being too tight. “Are you?”

“Oh! Oh, I'm fine.  _ Wow _ , it's... it's really, really great to meet you, Dr. Banner,” Peter told him seriously, aware that his voice sounded awed but unable to bring himself to care when he was definitely starstruck.

“You know who I am?” Dr. Banner asked him— _ him!— _ and Peter nodded his head excitedly, forcing himself to keep his feet firmly planted on the ground to stop himself from hopping in place.  _ That _ may have been just a little too much. 

“Of course!” Peter gushed, spreading his hands out. “You-you're a  _ genius! _ Your work on stem cells in relation to gamma radiation is amazing, and your book on evolution was such an excellent read. I—wow, I'm a really big fan of everything you’ve done, sir.”

Peter could feel the heat in his cheeks that made him sure they were burning red, but Dr. Banner's own face was shaded a sweet shade of pink, so he didn't feel too embarrassed about his own blush. He was a little embarrassed about his rambling and all the way he was staring, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away as he kept fiddling with the hem of his shirt in a nervous tick. Dr. Banner was... something of an idol, really, and Peter was a little—okay, a lot—star-struck.

“Oh,” Dr. Banner breathed, his mouth falling open as he stared at Peter for a long, quiet minute. “And who are you?”

“P-Peter Parker, Dr. Banner, sir,” Peter told him, stuttering over his own words in his excitement, trying to get them out as quickly as possible before Dr. Banner realized that he had no reason to be talking to a random kid and decided to walk away before he could get everything out. 

“Uhm, you can stop calling me sir,” Dr. Banner told him and Peter didn't miss how the flush on his face deepened.

“Alright,” Peter said, still smiling widely and unable to keep it down as he talked to a  _ genius _ that he looked up to so much. He couldn't help it. He was meeting  _ Bruce Banner,  _ something that he’d  _ dreamed  _ of. No way he was supposed to stay calm, right? “I... could I a-ask you a question?”

Since Peter was avidly watching him, eyes darting around his face and taking in just how handsome he was in person, he saw the tension that jumped to the man’s jaw and the way he squared his shoulders as if he was drawing himself up for a fight. It was definitely not the reaction Peter had been watching for, but the hairs along the back of his neck gently stood on end in warning that the man before him  _ could _ be a threat. 

“What is the question about?” Dr. Banner asked, but his voice was harder than it’d been only a minute before.

Peter almost changed his mind, almost told Dr. Banner to forget it, or went to ask something else, but he knew that it was likely he would  _ never  _ get a chance like this again. He’d been coming to the tower for  _ two years _ and this was his first time seeing the scientist. Those weren't very good statistics for running into him again, so with a deep breath, he steeled his nerves. “I-I was wondering, uh, about your work with rad—”

“Hey, kid,” Tony's voice interrupted suddenly and Peter let out another surprised noise when the man threw an arm over Peter's shoulders. Goodness, he hadn’t even realized the man was coming up behind him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart as Tony greeted the other man with a simple, “Banner.”

“Hello, Tony,” Dr. Banner said, and Peter could almost feel the relief that rolled off the man's shoulders as he began backing away. “Sorry, but I need to go. It was nice meeting you... Peter.”

“Oh,” Peter said, eyes flickering between both men and then down to the floor where he spent a second staring at the tiled floors. He heard the disappointment in his own voice, but he still tried for a smile as he looked back up. “Right. It-it was awesome meeting you, sir! No! Dr. Banner, sorry.”

Dr. Banner smiled awkwardly before he turned away, hurriedly walking back the way he’d first been coming from. Peter held it together until he could no longer hear the man walking even as he stretched his hearing before he turned to Tony, his eyes wide with shame. 

“Oh  _ god,” _ Peter moaned miserably, all but falling against Tony's side as he whined,    
“That was  _ so _ embarrassing!”

“What was?” Tony asked, shifting so that he could hold up Peter's weight more easily. Good, since Peter didn’t think he was anything but weak muscles and embarrassed flailing. Definitely not enough to hold himself up. 

“Kill me. Just end me, Mr. Stark,  _ please,”  _ Peter pleaded, standing on his own with a pout when Tony pushed him up by the shoulders.

Tony looked at him, tilting his head to the side as he studied Peter’s face, which was still warm and no doubt flushed red. “What's up with all the teenage melodrama, huh?”

“I just embarrassed myself  _ so badly _ in front of Dr. Banner,” Peter told him. He knew how whiny he sounded but he didn't care. His life was  _ over.  _ Literally, nothing that embarrassing had  _ ever _ happened to him before, and that seriously said something. 

“Oh, with Bruce? How'd you do that, kid?” Tony asked as he began walking. Peter fell into step beside him out of instinct more than wanting to follow—what he  _ wanted _ was to curl up in a ball of shame and  _ die— _ hitching his bag higher on his shoulder even as he kept his gaze locked on the floor, too embarrassed to even chance meeting Tony’s gaze.

“I..." Peter began, but then trailed off when he realized he wasn’t even sure what to  _ tell _ him. 

Actually, he wasn't even totally sure that he  _ wanted  _ to tell Tony why he was so upset over the horribly failed interaction, not really, not with how embarrassing it could potentially be. After all, his initial reaction to Tony wasn't all too different from how he’d just acted in front of Dr. Banner, and he  _ knew _ if he started talking he wouldn't be able to stop. 

There were some things he was  _ sure _ Tony didn't want to knowdo, and Peter's previous crush on him might be one of those things. But... he’d never held something back from Tony before—unless it had to do with his health, ‘cause Tony was the  _ worst _ mother hen—and it felt weird to do it now. 

So he took a deep, steadying breath as he prepared himself for his inevitable embarrassment. “I just got a little overwhelmed,” Peter admitted, not yet looking up. “Dr. Banner is a bit of a... role model, I guess. He’s just someone that I really look up to. He's a  _ genius _ , and I basically couldn't speak.”

“That doesn't sound too bad,” Tony told him, bumping their shoulders together as they turned down another long hall that would take them to  _ their _ lab. 

_ “He’salsoveryattractive,”  _ Peter added in a rush, letting out a long breath that took some of the tightness in his shoulders with it. “I... I may have a little bit of a crush on him, and the way I acted was  _ so embarrassing.  _ But he's just  _ so smart _ I could hardly even talk! And—and have you seen his eyes! What colour even  _ is that?  _ I'll never be able to redeem myself.”

Tony was silent for a moment before he clapped Peter’s shoulder and said, “Kid, you and me both. That man's brain is... yeah, it's pretty great,” Tony told him, sending him a warm smile. “Now appearance-wise? He's not so much my type, but I guess I could see the appeal if you're into older men.”

Peter blushed, incredibly thankful when Tony kept it at that and didn’t add anything else. Because yes,  _ of course _ he had a crush on Tony Stark (who didn't, really?), but that was a thing of the past! He knew that Tony was  _ definitely  _ smart enough to realize what he was admitting to by telling him that he had a crush on Dr. Banner, and he was endlessly thankful Tony didn’t make a big deal out of it. 

Nowadays, he didn't think of Tony in any way other than familial, and his past feelings were definitely not something that they needed to discuss.  _ Ever.  _

“Thank you,” Peter said heavily, both for letting him talk about the way he was feeling  _ and  _ for ignoring what Peter had basically admitted. “I just... I really wanted to ask him about his work but I think I scared him off by being so awkward and... flaily.”

“Flaily?” Tony laughed, bumping their shoulders together again as they came up to their workshop. They had both had to stop for handprint scans as well as a voice confirmation before the doors would let them, but once they were inside Tony added, “I'm surprised you've never seen him around before.”

“What do you mean?” Peter asked, tossing his backpack onto the couch shoved into the corner since he hadn’t even made it to the lounge and then moving across the room to where the mini kitchenette was to dig through the fridge. 

Of course, it was probably a  _ good _ thing that he had never seen Dr. Banner before, if his embarrassing reaction today was anything to do by.

He looked back in time to see Tony shrug as he headed over to his preferred worktable. “He's up here all the time. Banner doesn't much like the others, and even though he has his own floor he says he prefers the lighting up here. I think he just prefers the company, but I'm not going to call him out on it when he wants to pretend he’s all antisocial.”

“Wait, why haven't I ever seen him before?” Peter asked, his voice laced with amusement at the slang Tony used. If there was  _ anything _ that Peter prided himself on, it was the way he’d affected Tony’s vocabulary. 

He ended up grabbing some leftover pasta and popping it into the microwave as he leaned back against the counter to watch Tony start working. The man shrugged, bringing his holographic screen to light as he sat down. “He's only usually around really early. Like, disgustingly early.”

“Oh,” Peter said quietly. Well, that made sense, since he was always at school in the mornings or, if it was the weekend, catching up on the homework he needed to do before the next week after a long night of patrol. 

It was quiet for a few minutes, just the tapping of Tony’s fingers and the faint buzzing of the microwave before Tony broke it to ask, “Anyway, enough of Banner. How are you?”

Peter could hear the obvious concern in his voice even as he continued tapping away at the keyboard floating above his workbench. Tony cared. It was obvious in all the things he did for Peter and all the things he gave him, but it was always obvious in the tone of his voice and the lines that edged his eyes after time they returned from a mission. It was obvious in the way he was always checking in, the way he had Karen report every injury. 

And now, the way he was leaning towards where Peter was still leaning against the kitchenette counter even while he was typing. The question was a serious one, and Peter knew that Tony wanted a serious answer. So he didn’t say anything right away, knowing Tony wouldn't appreciate it if he did. He wouldn't take a half-assed lie in the place of an honest answer. 

Actually, with everything considered, Peter was a little surprised that he hadn't heard from Tony sooner and that he’d waited until they were together to grill him about the day before—’cause that was definitely what he was asking about, since Peter hadn’t woken up to a missed text or phone call. If Tony had tried to check in last night, Peter probably wouldn't have known what to tell him, considering he  _ still  _ wasn't totally sure about how he felt, especially after retelling the fight to Ned and the way that’d left him feeling so torn up. 

“I'm alright. It wasn't that bad of a fight,” Peter told him, because that was at least true. 

The robots, while plentiful and annoying, had been very easy to take down. Peter had figured they were just a distraction for something more, but Karen had assured him last night that nothing more exciting than clean-up had happened after he left. Yeah... that was Doom.

“What was that little moment you had with Hulk, huh? Do you have a crush on the big guy as well?” Tony asked, and while his voice was teasing, Peter still felt himself blush darkly.

“It was nothing,” he mumbled, turning to grab his container of pasta from the beeping microwave before finally settling at his own seat, if only so that he could turn his back to Tony. 

He shovelled a bite of pasta in his mouth as a perfect excuse for Peter to keep silent. What had happened with Hulk was  _ not _ something that Peter wanted to think too deeply about. He was still a little shaken up, the feeling of his fingers being crushed staying with him for hours after the fight had ended and he’d gotten home safely. 

“I heard that he almost crushed a civilian?” Tony asked after Peter said nothing. While most people would think that he sounded nothing more than mildly interested, Peter had known him long enough to hear the extra layer to his voice. It wasn't as simple a question as Tony was making it seem, and it rubbed Peter the wrong way.

“It wasn't his fault,” Peter said quickly, voice steady and sure even if he wasn’t sure why he felt so strongly about the issue. “She was hiding behind some sort of cart, and Hulk wouldn’t have been able to see her.”

Tony hummed, but he didn't add anything else. Peter shoved some more noodles into his mouth even as he signed in to his secure account, typing in a ridiculous password and then letting his retina be scanned,  _ again. _ The amount of security was alarming but more than anything else, it broke Peter's heart that Tony felt as though he needed it in his own home. He should feel safe, but Peter knew that wasn't the case, not with the rest of the Avengers living below them.

“You took care of it, though?” While Tony phrased it as a question, Peter was pretty sure it was anything but. 

Tony would have watched every bit of coverage the battle had received the minute he’d been home from the fight, analyzing both the team  _ and _ Peter. He’d seen it happen enough times in the past to know that it was something Tony  _ needed _ to do after a fight. Watching their coverage was something of a ritual he practised. Peter was convinced it was half to improve himself (and Peter) and half to keep himself safe by constantly analyzing how the rest of the Avengers fought. 

Peter didn’t say any of that, especially when Tony said, “You could just join the team.”

He sighed, a familiar refusal on the tip of his tongue. It was a conversation that they’d had before, more times than Peter could count ever since the Avengers had been pardoned and everything had seemingly gone back to normal.  _ Nothing _ had gone back to normal, because the bonds that had been broken during the “Civil War” were still broken. 

Peter was pretty sure that Tony was lonely. Stuck on a team with people he didn’t trust and didn’t feel safe with. But Peter... he just wasn't ready. Hell, he was still in  _ high school,  _ and sure he had helped out here and there, but being a part of the  _ Avengers  _ would mean something more. Something that Peter wasn't sure he was ready for.

Something that Peter wasn't sure he would be able to live up to.

“I want to,” he said honestly, like he did every time they had this talk. 

Being an Avenger would be a childhood dream come true. It would push him from vigilante to superhero. But it would be so much more than Peter had ever experienced before. He already felt like he was drowning more often than he was treading... could he even handle it? “I just... what if they don't take me seriously? I want to be a part of the team,  _ of course _ I do, but I want them to treat me like a team member. What if they all just treat me like a kid, ya know?”

_ What if they don't think I'm good enough. What if people look up to me and I fail. What if I can't be what people need me to be. What if I’m not good/strong/fast/just enough?  _ Tony heard it all, every terrified feeling that he would never be able to say in the light of day but had muttered over the years in the safety of night, when they’d each stayed up so late that it was early and Peter felt safe, locked away with technology with no one but his mentor. 

More than just knowing how Peter felt, he knew that Tony  _ understood it. _ They’d had conversations over the years, off-handed comments mentioned that meant more to Peter than he’d ever know how to express, that made it clear Tony didn't always know everything either. Some days were just harder than others, when you were constantly putting your life on the line. But... 

Peter just wasn’t ready. 

When he didn’t say anything and sat quietly picking at his finger, Tony took a deep breath and said, “Well, you'll have people on your side if you change your mind. You know that I would go to bat for you, and I'm sure you'll have Bruce... along with  _ James.” _

Peter spluttered, turning in his chair to gape at Tony incredulously as his previous indecision was forgotten entirely. “A-are you  _ following _ me?”

“Relax, kid,” Tony said, not bothering to look at him as he continued to work, but the smirk pulling at his lips said it all. “I was just checking on you, I didn't mean to overhear anything.”

“Are you... okay with that?” Peter asked quietly, pulling off a hangnail before studiously going back to eating his pasta. 

Tony let out a heavy breath but said, “You're your own person, kid.”

“I know,” Peter told him, focusing on his work and pulling up the schematics for the project he was working on as he swallowed down another bite of food. “But... I also know what he did to your parents, and I don't want to be friends with him if that upsets you.”

Tony was quiet for a few minutes. Peter didn’t push it, especially since he knew just how much of a sore spot this was. As protective as he felt over James, Tony would come first. Tony would almost always come first, after everything he’d done and been for Peter over the years. He clearly had some thinking to do, so Peter pushed away everything that he was worrying about and focused on the science before him. 

When he spoke, his voice was a touch deeper than it had been a moment ago. “It really is fine. That man last night was not the one who killed my parents, and I shouldn't keep thinking they're the same person.”

“Alright,” Peter said softly, letting the silence grow between them until it became comfortable.

He couldn't help the small smile that pulled at his lips, or the lightness in his chest. This... it was something he loved almost as much as saving lives. Never in a million years could he have imagined his life turning out like this: hanging out with Tony Stark in his penthouse workshop, collaborating on the math for a project that would,  _ hopefully _ , assist in the search for renewable energy. Spending time with an amazing, wonderful man who so many misunderstood but Peter was lucky enough to call a friend. 

Peter hummed under his breath, smiling when rock music suddenly blared to life, and it wasn't long before he started to sing along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Bruce!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is one of the longest chapters I've _ever_ posted on a work before so... I really hope you guys like it!

“Peter!” May called, far too loudly for the size of their apartment. Peter grimaced, rolling over and burying his face into his pillow. It was  _ way  _ too early for her to be yelling and Peter groaned as he was forcibly pulled from the last dregs of sleep as she continued to yell. “There’s a man here to see you!”

Peter perked up instantly, rolling off his bed before hopping into his pants and excitedly grabbing a shirt from the pile of these-are-probably-clean clothes that he had shoved into the corner of his room. James had  _ finally  _ texted him two days ago, six days after they had met in the alleyway beside Peter's apartment. They spent a few hours texting back and forth before James had asked Peter if he was serious about showing him around, and Peter had assured him he was.

They’d made plans for that weekend and, now that it was Saturday, James was picking him up for a day of exploring the city. Peter was excited, mostly to be spending the day with James, but also to be getting out of the house. Between school, his work with Tony, and being Spider-Man, it wasn't often that Peter was able to carve out free time devoted to doing something  _ fun. _ If he ever did, it was time spent with May or Ned. He loved them both, of course he did, but it was exciting to be hanging out with someone new.

Peter's circle was small; for a long time, he only  _ had _ May and Ned. Now there was MJ, and Tony and Karen (he didn't care what Tony kept telling him about AI’s, they were totally friends), but the group of people he kept close to his heart was something he was selective about. It was too hard with everything that he had going on to bring people into his life when they didn't know, and Peter didn't think it was fair to them either.

He couldn’t be putting people in danger. He’d already done that with Ned knowing and MJ suspecting, ’though she still hadn’t called him out on it. Keeping May in the dark was a last-ditch attempt at keeping  _ someone  _ he loved safe from the craziness that was being Spider-Man, and even that wasn’t going well.

With James, he didn't have to worry about any of that. Not only was James in the know, but he was also a part of the life in such a visceral way that the worries Peter always had around making friends just weren’t applicable to his friendship with James. Tony was amazing and Peter loved him so much, but he was more of a father figure than anything else. They cared about each other, and they got along, and they  _ were _ friends... but there was the mentorship aspect that was always present between them, and it wasn’t even something that Peter wanted to get rid of. 

And that was why he was so excited that he might be able to make friends with someone he could really relate to. He’d only been talking to James for a little over a day, but Peter already really liked him. It was easy to imagine them getting along, with James' dry sense of humour and curious nature. Once James had gotten the hang of texting—he was literally the slowest texter ever—they had spent  _ hours _ joking back and forth and talking about the changes New York had made over the last seventy years. 

Today, they were going to be exploring the city together, an offer which Peter had nearly lost all hope of being accepted after  _ six whole days _ had passed without hearing anything from James. But then James had texted him, and they’d made plans, and today they were going to be exploring the city together! 

He had spent last night planning out things they could do, things that Peter thought were important for James to see, coming from the forties, and he was  _ so _ excited. Sure, James knew what Brooklyn had been like  _ decades ago, _ but everything was  _ so  _ different, and Peter had stayed up too late thinking about how overwhelming that must be.

It broke his heart to think about what it must be like for James, to be living in a future he never wanted to be a part of. To have gone to war to serve your country only to face _ unthinkable _ horrors at the hands of an evil corporation. And then to have to live with all of that, to live what they’d done to him again and again, only to have to live in a time that must have felt so different from what he’d known before. Honestly... the fact that he was even still going made him the strongest man Peter had ever known. 

He pushed that aside, knowing that he didn’t want to be focusing on that when he saw James. He shoved a smile onto his face as he pushed past the thoughts of James’ past and tried to focus on how excited he was to be hanging out with someone else who had  _ superpowers.  _

“I'm coming!” Peter finally called out, just as loud as May had been, with a roll of his eyes. He jammed his feet into his converse as he grabbed his backpack, pulling it open to make sure he had everything. Suit? Wallet? Keys? Energy bars? All check.

It was quick work to get to the living room and May was standing in the kitchen all but bouncing on her toes with a frighteningly large smile on her face. “Who is this man? Are you going out with him?” May asked, and the smile on her face turned outright  _ gleeful _ . “You haven't told me  _ anything _ about a boyfriend, young man!”

“ _ Oh my god, May!” _ Peter groaned, pushing her off gently when he tried to grab his arm and pull him in closer. “You are so  _ loud, _ he can probably hear you!”

“Are you embarrassed by me?” May asked, sounding far more upset than Peter knew she actually was. He rolled his eyes and didn't bother responding to his aunt's ridiculousness, which only seemed to do the opposite of what he wanted. “You are, aren't you! Oh Peter, and after everything that I’ve done for you? You would  _ still _ keep it a secret? This is just heartbreaking!”

Peter shook his head, unable to keep down the smile that pulled at his lips or the laugh that bubbled out of his throat when May pretended to swoon. She may have been ridiculous, but Peter loved her. “He's not my boyfriend, oh my god.”

“Good, because he's entirely too old for you,” May said, a touch of seriousness bleeding into her humorous tone. “A hundred is a bit older than I would be comfortable with you dating.”

“Oh, you know who he is?” Peter asked, giving up on getting to the door without having this conversation. He let out another, loud sigh before walking over to the counter and breaking a banana off the bunch. If he was stuck here for a little bit longer he might as well eat something for breakfast.

“I don't live under a rock, mister. Of course I know who the Winter Soldier is. What do you take me for, an old lady?”

“I'm  _ so  _ not answering that,” Peter muttered, ducking away with a laugh when she swatted at him.

May hummed consideringly, and when Peter glanced over her face was entirely too serious for his liking. “And where did you meet this much older superhero?”

“Oh,” Peter said dumbly, turning away before he continued speaking. “I met him through the Stark internship. The Avengers live in the Tower again, and sometimes they come up to Tony’s floor when I’m there.”

May sighed heavily, and Peter pretended that he couldn't hear the disappointment in her voice when she said, “Alright. Well, I hope you have fun.”

“Thanks, May. I love you,” Peter told her weakly, still not looking towards her as he made his way to the front door. She didn’t try to reach for him again, or tease him anymore, and Peter’s chest stung with shame. 

She echoed the sentiment as Peter slipped out of the front door, pushing down the guilt he felt too heavy inside his gut. After the last few years, it was now a familiar feeling and he did his best to push it away as he always did, focusing instead on the fact that she was  _ safe.  _

It never got easier, though. Each time he had to lie to her, it hurt a little more. They’d always been honest with each other, and they’d never kept secrets. May had been his closet confidant even before she had custody of him, and then they’d both lost so much. First Peter's parents, and then Ben, and they’d clung to each other in the painful aftermath when they were the only family they had left. 

May was more of a mother to Peter than an aunt, and everything in him rebelled against lying to her when he’d always been able to go to her in the past. This, lying to her all to keep her safe, caused a horrible feeling of unease to climb up from his toes and cause guilt to settle heavily in his gut. His throat burned each time he told her something that wasn’t true, every single time he had to lie about where he’d been or what he’d been doing because she just couldn’t know.

But May wasn’t stupid, and she knew that something was wrong. The way she looked at him made his chest ache with shame. His heart felt sore whenever he saw the sadness in her eyes after he made something up on the spot and didn’t pass it off well enough for her to believe him. It was awful but... at least she was alive. It was what Peter comforted himself with when the guilt ate him awake at night and it didn’t feel like he’d ever feel okay again; May was alive, and no one was after her for being connected to Peter, and she wasn’t always worrying about him like he knew she would if she found out. 

It didn’t make the reality any better, and their relationship had never been so strained. Peter ached with how much he missed the ease with which they used to co-exist. Now, every interaction was coloured by what they both knew, by all the things that Peter didn't say and all the silences that May heard but never knew the cause of.

It was exhausting, keeping it all up, and Peter was so, so tired. But he could be tired as long as it meant May was okay, and the very last thing he would  _ ever _ do would be putting May’s life at risk. He couldn't see how telling her would do anything  _ but  _ that. He was so careful with his identity,  _ had _ to be so careful with his identity, and May knowing wouldn't do her any good. It certainly wasn’t like Pepper knowing that Tony was Iron Man kept her any safer... which may not have been the best example, but still. 

Peter’s logic stood, and he told himself that the only reason he was lying so much as to keep her safe. He just  _ had _ to keep her safe, because Peter had no idea what the hell he’d do if something happened to her and he lost her as well. 

But... on top of that, there were nights when Peter lied awake, kept up by his twisting guilt, and thought that she wouldn’t be proud of him if she found out. That she’d disapprove, or worse, she would know of all the lives that he hadn’t been able to save and would be disappointed in him because of them. That almost scared him even more, because May being disappointed in him wasn’t something that Peter thought he would be able to handle. 

So he didn't tell her, and instead he continued making up lies for all the nights she caught him out too-late on patrols, and all the while a painful distance continued to grow between them until he barely recognized their relationship. 

Taking a deep breath, he finally pushed out of the apartment and let out a long sigh, locking the door to give himself a moment which he used to pull himself together before he turned around. Because he’d slipped out the door he hadn’t yet seen James, so he took another calming breath and pretended he couldn’t hear May sighing from inside the apartment, and tried to get a handle on himself before he did something ridiculous like start crying. 

“Hello,” James’ voice pulled him back to the present, and Peter turned to find him with a small, confused-looking frown on his face. “Are you alright?”

Peter tried for a smile, though he was sure it fell flat with how it felt more like a grimace. He’d never been good at hiding how he was feeling, and he knew that he probably looked miserable. “I'm alright,” he lied, doing his best to sound positive as he started towards the elevator.

Fake it till you make it, right?

Before James could question him, Peter marched across the hall, hoping to delay the questions he could see over James’ face. As soon as Peter had pressed the button to call the elevator, James’ voice echoed through the hall with a resounding, “No.” 

When Peter looked back, he was staring at the open doors with tension along his body, held so tightly it was visible through his clothes. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, and even from a few steps away Peter could see that his jaw was locked tightly. When he made a questioning noise, James only repeated to him, “No.”

Well. Alright then, “Okay. Okay, James, it’s more than alright,” Peter told him softly, trying to keep his voice light and soothing. He stepped forward, having no idea what he was doing and feeling entirely out of his depth as he reached out to gently lay a hand on James’ arm. Before he touched him, James flinched back violently. “I’m sorry,” Peter said immediately, holding both hands up. “I’m sorry, James. How about we take the stairs? Does that sound like it would be okay?”

At first James didn't say anything, and the silence stretched on long enough that the hairs along Peter's neck stood on end as an uneasy tenseness settled in the small hallway. Just when Peter was going to ask if he was alright, James started to relax, and Peter watched worriedly as his body slowly loosened from its tense position as he breathed deeply. 

He watched, guilt climbing up his throat as he tried to think of something to say. Nothing he thought up was good enough and all of it made him sound like an asshole, so he bit into his bottom lip to stop himself from saying something that might make it worse. Rather, he waited until James didn’t look like he was in physical pain, and then gestured weakly down the hallway.

“The stairs are this way,” he muttered quietly, almost a whisper, and shrugged his shoulders when James’ eyes shot up to meet his. He had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do or say, so instead of saying anything he turned and started walking towards the service door waiting for James to follow after him.

He  _ did, _ thank god, and some of the swirling anxiety in his gut calmed down. Peter held the service door open for James to pass through, but then ducked his head awkwardly when James just stared at him. Peter rushed through the doorway, giving it a push to keep it open behind him. Peter started down the stairs without saying anything, his entire body tensing with anxiety at having James at his back. He felt bad for it, because he didn’t  _ want _ to think of James as a threat when they were hanging out and trying to become friends, but the extra awareness of danger that came with his powers didn’t seem to care about any of that.

The trip down the stairs was made in silence, and the only sound was their echoing footsteps as they made their way down the flights of stairs without either of them saying anything. Peter didn't want to open his mouth and say the wrong thing, though it was really, really hard to hold in the nervous babbling that wanted to spew out of his mouth. All he wanted was to ease some of the tension that he could feel along every inch of his body, but he had no idea how and he knew it would be better to say nothing than say the wrong thing. 

So with great difficulty and  _ a lot _ of tapping his fingers against his thighs, Peter kept quiet all the way to the first floor. He held the door open behind him but didn’t try to get James to walk through it before he did, and he just had to hope that was enough. He stayed quiet as they walked through his building’s lobby, checking back as subtly as he could to try to see that James was still following him or if he looked like he might be ready to talk.

He didn’t, so Peter still didn't say anything as they walked out of the apartment and onto the street. There wasn’t too much foot traffic, not in Peter’s area, but New York was as full of ambient noise as it was known for, and Peter let that wash over him and fill some of the silence as he kicked at his foot and stood around, awkwardly knitting his fingers together in front of him. 

“I don't like elevators,” James said suddenly. His voice was rougher than it’d been when Peter had first gotten out of his apartment, and guilt climbed its way back up his throat. 

Peter sucked in a sharp breath and felt like a freaking  _ ass.  _ Of course James wouldn’t like elevators! He was probably a whole  _ collection _ of PTSD and different triggers, but honestly, elevators seemed like a pretty simple one. Small, enclosed metal box? Heck, Peter didn’t even like elevators all the time!

His shoulders slumped when he realized just how careless he’d been, and he quickly sputtered out, “I-I am  _ so  _ sorry. I didn't think that it would—”

“You didn't know,” James stated. His voice was firm enough that Peter didn't even think of arguing. “You didn’t know, and that’s not your fault,” he assured, and then he took a long, deep breath and tilted his face up towards the sky. “I am not mad.”

Peter chewed on his bottom lip for a few seconds as he considered what James had said. He had a point, but that didn’t stop Peter from feeling like a total bum. “Alright,” he finally said, not quite believing him but also not wanting to question James' feelings. 

James turned to him, his lips pulled up in a small but kind smile, and Peter returned it as best as he could even if he still felt super shitty. “Earlier... your face. It did something, and I didn’t like it,” James told him seriously, a frown pulling his lips down and managing to look  _ unfairly _ attractive. Peter was  _ very  _ bisexual and James’ face was very rude for being so attractive. 

“What?” Peter asked, his voice jumping in pitch as he tried to figure out what the heck James could be talking about.

“When you first came outta your apartment, you looked like you were trying not to look sad. Your face was a lie. Why?” James’ words were blunt enough that Peter winced, wondering how in the world he was supposed to answer that.

“Oh, I...” Peter trailed off, biting into his bottom lip as he looked up at James from under his lashes. He hummed consideringly, wondering if he should be honest, and then feeling awful that he’d even considered anything else. Sure, he and James weren’t all that close, but Peter  _ wanted _ them to be. “Me and my aunt... we’ve been having a hard time together.”

James made a noise that sounded questioning enough, so Peter added, “I don’t want to tell her who I am,” knowing that James understood what he wasn’t saying when he nodded. 

“That’s understandable.”

“I just... I just want to keep her safe, ya know?” Peter asked, shrugging his shoulders uselessly. James nodded, but he didn’t say anything. Peter didn’t mind, because he certainly had no idea what to say either. 

“What are the plans for today?” James asked after the silence had stretched on long enough for Peter to feel uncomfortable, and he happily let James change the topic to something easier.

“I'm glad you asked!” Peter said. He was finally able to muster some enthusiasm into his voice as he began walking towards the subway, telling James what he had planned for their day together.

* * *

Peter had started them off lightly, only taking them on the subway for a few stops before taking James to the Chrysler Building. He was even more conscious than he’d initially been about them riding the subway. The last thing that he wanted to do was to upset James any more than he already had, but he seemed to be okay with their travel plans and hadn’t protested at all when Peter’d led him down to the first platform. 

After they’d marvelled at just how tall the Chrysler Building was—with James telling Peter just how different the city looked than it did when he’d been growing up—they checked out St. Patrick’s Cathedral—’cause James had told Peter how his mama had forced him to Church every Sunday and how he’d kept going even after she was gone—followed by Bryant Park, where they spent some time walking around and people watching. 

Even if it was heartbreaking, Peter listened attentively as James told him about the disconnect he felt as he went through the world and looked at all the different people around him. Peter’s heart ached when James explained to him that, even though he’d been awake at different points throughout the last seventy years—he’d never spent any of that time in control of his own body or mind. He’d merely been a puppet for Hydra to use and for him, it felt like the forties had  _ just  _ happened and like they were thousands of years ago, all at once. 

Peter had done his best to make sympathetic noises as they strolled through the bright grass. James was wearing a leather jacket and a pair of leather gloves even though the weather was mild, and it made Peter sad to know James felt like he had to hide part of himself away while the other part of Peter definitely understood the want for anonymity. 

Thankfully, it didn’t seem like James needed him to give him any insightful answers, because Peter wouldn’t have had anyway. As he watched James’ face out of the corner of his eye, the more the man talked the more he seemed to relax until there was an easier smile painting on his lips than Peter had seen from him yet. Something warm curled in his chest at knowing that he’d been able to do that for someone he cared about, and he realized as they were going around K-town and popping into some of Peter’s favourite shops, that James was already one of his people. 

As Peter was showing James around one of Ned’s favourite grocery stores, their conversation turned to something lighter, and James asked Peter about his school. He happily took over the conversation when it seemed like James was worn out from talking, and he rambled happily about his classes with the occasional interjection from James. Over text, James’ dry humour had been dried down, but in person, he said things that threw Peter into laughing fits that were so strong they physically hurt, and he’d laugh until his stomach was cramping.

He was  _ hilarious,  _ and Peter found himself genuinely having a good time. It didn’t matter that he was showing James around because he didn’t have anyone else to do so, or that James was one of the only people who would be able to understand what it felt like to be a superhero. Despite all of that, Peter was just having a really, really good time. 

And it was because he was having such a great time that it took him so long to realize that James, at some point, had stopped having his own good time. 

Peter had wanted to bring him to the Museum of Modern Art because James had mentioned that when they lived together, Steve used to be a painter and James would hang his work around their apartment. Peter had no idea if that meant James liked art, but a museum was usually a solid bet for something touristy, and the MoMA was a classic. 

James had been quiet ever since Peter started talking about school, which was totally okay with him! He definitely understood needing a break from interacting and he was just glad that James had been having a good enough time and that he felt comfortable enough to talk in the first place. If he needed some time to get over that—that was totally cool! 

But it was because of James’ quietness that Peter hadn’t even noticed that something was wrong, too caught up in trying to fill the silence with his own excited chattering about some of the things he knew about the different exhibits—all things he’d learned from MJ, of course—that he hadn’t noticed something was wrong until the warm, steady presence that had only been a step behind him dropped behind until the hairs along the back of Peter’s neck fell down and the anxious thrumming he’d been ignoring all day quieted completely. 

Snapping his mouth shut, Peter stopped walking and spun around with wide eyes. The museum was crowded, seeing as it was Saturday, and Peter struggled to look through the crowd. He cursed his height when he couldn't see past a group of crazy tall tourists, chewing on his bottom lip worriedly as he tried to get sight of James and figure out what had happened while trying not to feel horrifically guilty that he’d done something to upset James  _ again. _

Standing on his toes, Peter tried to look past another group of tall folk and mentally cheered when they moved out of his way, only to fall back onto his heels when he caught sight of James. Pushing out a harsh breath, Peter felt his heart start to race when he finally caught eyes on James, feeling like his heart had been punched out of him as worry and guilt battled for dominance around his breaking heart. 

James was standing tucked away in a corner, his back pressed tightly to the wall as his eyes jumped erratically around the room. His hands were clenched into fists that were straining the leather of his gloves. Peter took a deep breath and focused his hearing until he could make out the sound of grinding metal that had to have been coming from James’ left arm. 

With a quick breath, Peter hurried over but made sure to approach slowly once James looked at him and his eyes had stopped jumping all around the room to focus on Peter’s warm face. He took a deep breath, looking around the room quickly to see if anyone had noticed them, and thankfully—in typical New York fashion—no one had. 

“Are you alright?” Peter asked him quietly, doing his best to keep his voice neutral, even trying to make it sound calming, when all he wanted to do was rage at himself for hurting James  _ again.  _

The man’s eyes were dull in a way that Peter hadn't seen before, not even that first night in the alleyway, when they’d been full of curiosity and confusion. Now, they seemed almost lifeless and it made something in Peter’s stomach twist as fear raced up his spine, a fine tremor running across his entire body that caused him to tense up when he realized just how  _ dangerous _ James looked. 

He looked every bit the Winter Soldier, his eyes dark and filled with nothing but a cool, calculated sort of distance, his entire body wrung tight like he was ready to strike. Someone laughed loudly in the distance and James’ eyes jumped to the general direction of where the noise came from and a snarl pulled at his lips. Peter felt his chest constrict painfully, because this was  _ his fault. _

Peter was just about to open his mouth and ask a second time if James was okay when he cleared his throat and visibly tried to pull himself together. Which was one of the most heartbreaking things Peter had ever seen. 

“I need a break,” James whispered so quietly that Peter wouldn’t have even heard him if it hadn’t been for his enhanced hearing. 

The admittance seemed to have cost him and Peter watched as James’ jaw locked even tighter until he could tell that James was grinding his teeth together just from looking at him. Peter took another, very slow step forward and ignored the way his entire body was screaming that James was a  _ threat _ and just how badly he wanted to flee, holding in a flinch when James ground out, “I need to get out of here.”

“Okay,” Peter said as softly as he could. 

He stepped forward after a moment of silence where James didn’t make a move, and he started to reach out, only extending his arm when it didn't seem like James was going to stop him. Thankfully, this time he didn't flinch away and he let Peter touch him. The skin of James' right arm was warm under Peter's hand even through the thick leather jacket that he had on, and he gently ran his hand down James’ covered forearm until he could link their fingers together, something his aunt May used to do when Peter panicked and they were in public places.

James let Peter hold his hand, gently squeezing back when Peter started to lightly pull him away from the wall. Once James wasn’t backed into the corner he stuck tight to Peter’s side, his hand turning so he could keep their biceps pressed tightly together as Peter led him around groups of people. Some of the tourists would move out of the way when they saw him, which was no doubt due to James’ “murder glare,” which was, like, the  _ scariest _ freaking facial expression Peter had seen on anyone in his entire life. 

They were almost near the exit when he felt James come to a screeching halt at his side. Peter stopped with him, making sure that the length of their arms were still tightly pressed together in hopes that the contact was giving James  _ some _ type of comfort. James’ hand started to squeeze his tighter before his grip suddenly went almost lax, and Peter frowned up at the man. 

“You can squeeze harder, it’s okay,” Peter told him quietly. James looked at him and Peter gave him the most reassuring smile he could manage, which seemed to work because James nodded a little. Then, Peter had to lock his jaw tightly to keep from crying out when James did  _ just _ as Peter asked and started grinding the bones in his hands together.  _ Holy fucking shit.  _

As calmly as he possibly could, Peter whispered, “It's okay, James. We're okay. You’re doing so good right now, okay?”

“Okay,” James repeated, but his voice was nothing more than a dull, plain monotone that made Peter shiver. It certainly didn't make him feel any better, but he tried not to focus on that and instead started them back up and moving towards the museum's exit.

It still took way longer than Peter would have liked to get them outside. With the crowds of people and the way James  _ clearly _ didn’t want to get too close to anyone else, they did a lot of stopping and starting, letting others pass by so they wouldn’t have to get close to them. Peter didn’t mind, but he felt bad that he’d brought James somewhere that was making him so upset  _ and _ that he hadn’t even realized it at first. 

Seeing as they’d made it a fair way into the museum, it was still a few more minutes before they made it near the front doors. With mounting horror, Peter realized that the front was way more crowded than the rest of the museum had been, and he gritted his teeth together when James squeezed his hand even tighter and started breaking bones that Peter reminded himself would heal as they made their way through the crowd.

James stayed tucked tightly to his side, standing just slightly behind Peter with their hands still twined together between their bodies. He did his best to lead them back through the front without bumping into anyone and when they finally broke through the front doors, Peter took a deep breath that tasted like New York air and let some of the tension that had been building along his frame rush out of him, feeling like they were finally free. 

However, James’ fingers squeezed Peter’s hand so tightly that Peter felt two of his fingers break. He bit into his bottom lip to keep from crying out—he didn't need James to know that he was hurt, not if he was so out of it that he didn’t even realize what he was doing—and instead of saying anything he continued to lead them away from the museum.

It wasn’t much of an improvement with how busy the streets were, crowded with busy people rushing about their lives and not caring to avoid the two of them. More than once Peter was crashed into as he tried to lead James somewhere they could have a moment of privacy, and he gladly ducked into the first alleyway he saw that was completely empty.

Peter couldn’t find it in himself to protest when James pulled his hand free. He watched silently as James stalked towards the corner of the alley and whirled to press his back against it, both of his hands pressing flat against the brick wall. Instead of following him or saying anything, Peter stood only a few steps into the alley silently, giving James time to collect himself—which he clearly needed, seeing as he was taking long, measured breaths in and out. 

He didn't look much better than he had in the museum, but the wild look in his eyes wasn't as prominent as it had been only minutes before and Peter tried to focus on that as he felt the bones in his hands start to slowly knit back together while he watched James with guilt clawing away at his throat.  _ God,  _ he’d hurt James again. 

“There was... there was too much,” James said weakly. Even with the way he was stuttering, his voice sounded too hollow.

Peter looked at him silently, trying to figure out what he could possibly say to make James feel better after he’d been the one at fault. He felt  _ horrible _ for how he clearly hadn’t considered James’ needs  _ at all _ when he’d been planning their outing, since he hadn’t even thought that maybe James wouldn’t be good with large crowds. Heck,  _ Peter  _ wasn’t good with large crowds! May wasn’t good with large crowds, for Heaven’s sake, and Peter should’ve just  _ thought _ about the fact that maybe James wouldn’t have wanted to do that when planning their day. 

It was all Peter’s fault that James... well, Peter was pretty sure that James was having a panic attack and it was all his fault for not even considering James’ needs. Peter had spent an entire week waiting for James to text him back but during that entire time he hadn’t even really been thinking of James as... well, as James. He’d just been thinking about him as someone Peter could be friends with, and that was an overstep on his part that he was feeling horrible about.

Looking at James, he had no idea what he could possibly say to make up for the fact that he hadn’t even spared a thought during his entire planning process of their day together for what would be best for James. He’d only thought of how much fun some of the places he liked were and how much fun James could have visiting them without actually thinking about what James may or may not need. 

_ Good freaking going, Peter, _ he thought at himself, wrapping an arm around his waist and curling his shoulders inwards, shame hot in his belly and making him feel absolutely horrible for just how awful he’d been. He’d offered James friendship and then he’d done  _ this, _ bringing James to a place that was  _ obviously _ going to be upsetting with just how many people were there.

The worst part, the part that was making Peter’s eyes sting and forcing him to blink rapidly to stop himself from crying, was the fact that he hadn’t even  _ noticed.  _ He’d been so caught up in having such a fun time that he hadn’t realized James  _ wasn’t _ until he was already hiding away and having a panic attack and that made him feel worse than anything else. 

“I broke your hand,” James called out suddenly and his voice broke Peter out of his spiralling thoughts. 

Pushing everything that he was thinking and feeling away, he tried for a smile even as another throb of pain shot through him. He’d had worse, he reminded himself, and forced something onto his face that may have looked like a grimace but was the best that he could do. 

“It's okay,” Peter told him James seriously, hoping that the man would be able to tell just how much Peter meant it. It was  _ his  _ fault that James had freaked out in the first place, and Peter would heal fast enough that a few broken bones were nothing if it meant that he’d been able to get James to a safer place. “I'll heal soon enough, don’t worry about it. Are you feeling any better? I... I’m  _ so _ sorry, I didn’t even think and...“

“I'm sorry,” James cut in, and then stared at him for another minute before he looked away to focus on somewhere behind Peter's shoulder. He was quiet for a while, silence stretching between them and broken only by the constant hum of New York. 

Peter still didn't know what he was supposed to say to make anything better. He wasn’t sure he  _ could _ make anything better, but he at least wanted to try. Eventually, James took a deep breath and asked, “Can we go somewhere else?”

“I think I know a place that would be okay,” Peter told him quietly, mentally crossing his fingers and hoping against hope that he wouldn’t mess up  _ again. _

* * *

By the time they’d settled into a corner booth in a small café, a café which Peter only knew about thanks to MJ and her dislike for large corporations, James looked a little better than he had in the alleyway and a lot better than he had in the museum. Despite that, guilt was still eating away at Peter's stomach for the fact that he’d hurt James in the first place. As James scooted to the very corner of the corner booth in a position that was sure to have a view of the entire café, Peter chewed on his bottom lip and folded his hands into his lap to stop himself from picking at his fingers. 

Peter watched James watch the rest of the restaurant quietly. His eyes weren’t as distant as they’d been backed into the corner in the museum, but they were still warily tracking around the room. After another few minutes of them sitting silently and not saying anything to the other, some of the harshness started to bleed from James’ frame until he didn’t look as tense.

He sure as heck didn’t look  _ happy, _ but at least the murder face was done. 

Drawing up as much inner-strength as Peter was able to muster, he quietly mumbled, “I’m really sorry, James,” while staring down at the table and focusing intently on the reflection from the hanging lights above him, too scared to look up and see whatever expression would be on James’ face. 

Silence echoed between then again, broken up by the wordless chatter coming from the few groups of people around them. The café wasn’t insanely busy—it never was, and that combined with how close it was to where they’d been were the two main reasons Peter had taken them here—but there were enough people for a quiet din of chattering. Peter waited patiently for James to respond, wondered if he ever would, and tried to think of something he could possibly say to make up for what he’d done. 

“Why are you sorry?” James asked him bluntly, though there was an edge of honest confusion in his tone that made Peter scrunch up his face in confusion. 

“I... this was all my fault. I planned out an entire day without thinking and I-I should have k-known. I shouldn't have made you do things with so many people without even thinking about whether or not that would even be something that you liked. It wasn't fair to you that I made all these plans without thinking about how they’d affect you, and I'm really sorry that I didn't think of that. I'm... I’m just really sorry, James.” Peter bit into his bottom lip to keep himself from saying anything else, feeling his cheeks start to heat up as he kept his eyes focused firmly on the table as embarrassment climbed up his throat. 

When James didn’t say anything, Peter briefly contemplated  _ dying, _ but then realized that probably would be easier said than done and instead waited with burning cheeks and an awkward churning in his belly for James to say something. 

When he finally spoke, his voice was stilted. “There... are things that I do not do well with.” James’ voice was so quiet that Peter wouldn't have heard the hushed admission if it wasn’t for his enhanced hearing, and he slowly raised his eyes to find James studiously staring off into the distance. “I did not tell you I cannot handle crowds. It is not your fault that you did not know that.”

Peter shook his head and said, “Even still! I wasn’t even thinking of things that you might like or even want to do!”

“How would you know what I liked?” James asked him bluntly, finally pinning Peter in place with a stare so intense he slumped back into the booth and curled his shoulders inward awkwardly. “That is why we are doing this, no? To learn about each other and find what we like? To... become friends?”

There was something so hopeful in James’ voice that he couldn’t stop the way his head started nodding quickly, so fast that he kinda felt like a bobblehead. A ghost of a smile passed over James' face when Peter said, “Yes! Yes, I really want to be friends with you.”

“I wanna be friends with you too, Peter,” James told him, sounding more relaxed than Peter had  _ ever _ heard him, and he felt a smile tug at his lips before it fell. 

“I’m just... I’m sorry that I’m not starting this friendship off very well.”

“To assume that you would know I do not like crowds is not fair to you,” James told him seriously. Peter nodded his head meekly, not daring to argue with him when James sounded so final. 

He still felt terrible. He didn’t think that he would ever  _ stop _ feeling terrible for such a major oversight on his part at the very beginning of a friendship he wanted so badly to cultivate. Nothing that James said would help ease the guilt he could still feel bubbling around in his gut, but he tried to take a deep breath and push it away. It wasn’t something he should focus on, especially if James was insisting he didn’t even need to feel it. 

Still, what he did wasn’t okay, Peter knew, but he wouldn’t say anything else about it if James didn’t want him to. 

So, taking a deep breath and doing his very best to push down the twisting guilt, he pulled a smile onto his face and asked, “Would you like a coffee?”

He stood from his seat quickly, doing his very best not to start picking at his nails as he focused on making the rest of their day the best that it could possibly be. He chewed on his bottom lip as he tried desperately to remember what the drink was that MJ always ordered from him and Ned as he waited for James’ answer. 

“Just water, thank you,” James said politely, so Peter nodded his head in response and turned on his heel. 

If he kept thinking about how bad he felt even after James had told him that he didn’t even need to feel bad to begin with, then wasn’t he just invalidating James’ feelings and his opinion? The  _ last _ thing that Peter would ever want to do to James was just what he was doing... and wasn’t that even worse than accidentally doing something that upset him? 

He could still remember exactly how torn up James had looked when Peter asked him what he really wanted to be called, and that broke his heart. Peter couldn’t be another person that didn’t think about what James wanted after the horror story he’d lived through, so with one last deep breath, he pushed away every negative thing he was feeling and focused on trying to order the absolute monstrosity of sugary deliciousness that MJ ordered them in the correct order. 

By the look on the barista’s face, he didn’t do a very good job. Peter gave her what he hoped was a charming smile and left the money he had for James’ coffee as a tip, swaying from foot to foot as he waited at the bar for his drink. He shot his eyes over to see James still sitting in their booth and something calmed in his chest when James looked even more settled than he had when Peter first got up. Smiling, he hummed under his breath until his drinks were ready, then tried to juggle his to-go cup, James’ glass of water and a plate all in two hands, flashing the barista another charming smile when she looked at his handful worriedly. 

“It’s cool, I’m way less clumsy than I look!” Peter told her, then stuck his fingers to the underside of the plate to make sure it wouldn’t fall before walking back to his table. 

James was still sitting in the corner, but he’d slumped into the booth in a way that looked way more comfortable. He sent Peter a small smile as he approached, and Peter felt his heart flutter with something like hope. If by some miracle James still wanted to be his friend after the day they’d had, Peter was going to try his best to believe him and do everything he possibly could to be deserving of that chance. 

“I got us cookies,” Peter announced cheerfully, putting the plate in the middle of the table and unsticking his finger from the bottom smoothly before depositing their drinks.

“Thank you,” James told him, but then didn’t make a move to reach for one. 

Peter slid into his seat and opened his straw, using it to scoop some of the whipped cream decorating his drink into his mouth and making a happy noise when the sweetness burst over his tongue. He pushed his straw through the high swirl still left, then took a sip with another, happier noise when it tasted exactly like what he was expecting it to taste like. 

Heck yeah! 

Peter looked up to find James watching him curiously. He wasn’t totally sure how to start a conversation after the day they had, so he quietly sipped his drink—only small sips, to avoid brain freeze, obviously—and watched him back, wondering if James  _ also _ thought the silence was totally awkward or if it was just Peter that was being totally awkward as they sat together and watched each other. 

Then, James drew his shoulders up and dropped his eyes to the table. “I have a question?” he asked hesitantly, still not looking up when Peter made a questioning noise. 

Peter nodded enthusiastically as he swallowed down his sip, more than glad that the silence had been broken, and when James still didn’t look up he said, “You can ask me anything.”

James nodded, but it was a few more minutes of silence before he finally said, “You held my hand,” with something like wonder in his voice. It was... probably the last thing that Peter had expected to be asked but the tone of voice threw him off even more. “You are... do you like men?”

Peter’s entire face flushed warmly and he dropped his own eyes so he wouldn't have to look at James as he swallowed roughly. He felt his heart start to race in his chest and his mouth went bone dry as he scratched the back of his neck and choked down the automatic, refusal that wanted to spill from his lips. 

He’d only ever come out to one person in his entire life, and that was Ned. Aunt May had always known, and instead of them having any sort of “talk,” she just started teasing him about cute girls  _ and _ cute boys. Peter hadn’t said anything against it so she’d kept doing it, and they’d never needed to say anything else about it. It wasn’t something that Peter  _ hid, _ he’d just never had any reason to tell anyone else and... well, it kind of felt like a big deal.

Which was silly, because it was just his sexuality. So he forced himself to look back up at James and shrug shoulder and smile as calmly as he possibly could as he said, “Yeah. And girls, though. I'm... I'm bisexual.”

“Oh,” James breathed, his mouth dropping open and his eyes going wide as he kept staring down at the table. Peter caught his eyes flicking upwards before he asked, “I... didn't k-know you could do that?”

Peter laughed softly, a nervous sounding snort spilling awkwardly from his lips as he shrugged again and said, “Yeah. When it comes to sexuality, I guess you can sorta do whatever you want? There're all types of different sexualities and stuff now, and different genders and stuff too.”

James nodded, but he didn’t say anything right away. He was still staring down at the table, but slowly he looked back up and admitted, “It wasn't like that... before. When I'm from y-you didn't wanna be queer.” James’ voice was so quiet Peter could barely hear him, but there was something painful in his voice that Peter could almost recognize from his own years of struggling with the way he felt and wondering if maybe something was wrong with him because of it.

He took another sip of his drink to give himself something to do as he wondered whether or not he could ask the question burning at the back of his throat, and then figured... well, maybe James wanted him to ask it, since he was the one who brought up the conversation to start with. 

“Do... do you like guys?” Peter asked him softly, keeping his voice was gentle as he possibly could. James’ face went pink behind his stubble, which was really answer enough, but he still waited patiently for James to say something.

“Uh,” he started, then trailed off with a frustrated noise in the back of his throat that had Peter wincing sympathetically. “Fuck, maybe? Dames never did it for me, but I never knew why. Just thought I wasn't wired that way, I guess? I didn’t wanna fuck no one like the rest of the guys, but I figured it was ‘cause I just wanted to wait till marriage like a good Catholic, ya know? Still, I kept trying, and I was damn good with ‘em, but I never wanted no one. I think...”

Peter listened intently as James’ language seemed to loosen up as he worked through how he felt, a soft smile pulling at his face as he hoped that meant James was feeling comfortable with him. He could only hope, and when James didn’t say anything else, he jumped in and told him, “You don't have to decide anything today, James. Hell, some people spend their whole lives not being sure, and others always know, and both options are totally fine. But if... if you  _ do _ like guys, that's okay. That's totally, seriously okay.”

James nodded slowly, staring at Peter in the same sort of wonder he’d had on his face when he’d asked for Peter to call him James, and he felt his heart all but melt. He opened his mouth to say something else that would hopefully be, like, encouraging, when his phone pinged. He was just going to ignore it but then it beeped again, then again, then several more times in a series of beeps that made it impossible to ignore. 

“You can check those,” James told him easily, raising an expectant eyebrow when his phone pinged  _ again. _

He blushed at the look on James’ face before he wiggled around to get his phone out of his pocket, checking the notifications on his lock screen with a roll of his eyes. “It's just Ned,” Peter told him distractedly, swiping his phone open and tapping out a quick message that told Ned he would text him later.

James made a noise of confusion and asked, “Ned?”

“Oh yeah,” Peter hummed, not used to the person he was with now knowing everyone else he spoke to since his social circle consisted of, like, four people. “Ned’s my best friend,” he explained, laughing at the crude message Ned sent him in response before putting his phone away again with a shake of his head. Just when he was about to start talking about Ned, a thought struck and instead he said, “Actually, if you ever wanna hang out with me and Ned, he'd  _ love _ that! He’s the biggest nerd ever, but he’s totally sweet and super harmless.”

James shrugged and dropped his eyes to the table, not saying anything right away. “I don't... I still have a hard time being comfortable around people.”

“Really?” Peter asked, honestly a little surprised and sure that bled into his voice. “It doesn't seem that way. I-I mean, when it's just us, it doesn't seem that way at all.”

James nodded his head and spoke in starts and stops as he said, “New people are... it can be daunting. They’re more intimidatin’ when I don’t know ‘em. It's... easier, with you. You remind me of Steve.”

“Really?!” Peter asked incredulously, trying his best not to sound  _ completely  _ insulted at the insinuation that he was anything like Captain America. Uh, gross. 

James laughed quietly under his breath and Peter looked up in shock before he could stop himself. It was the first time he'd heard James laugh and the sound of his quiet chuckle was pleasant, though the smile it twisted his lips into was even more so. “Don't look so disgusted, it's not a bad thing.”

“Are you sure?” Peter asked, because even if James and Steve were friends (which Peter wasn't all too sure of, honestly), being compared to Captain America was  _ so  _ not something that Peter would consider a compliment. Ever. 

James chuckled again,  _ thankfully,  _ before he reached forward for a cookie and broke off a small piece before nibbling on it. “Fair ‘nough. Steve can be... he can be a helluva lot, that's for sure. It was way better back before the serum, when he was still small. It's hard to ‘member most days, but sometimes I get fragments of memories and... he’d been a little spitfire back then, always trying to do the right thing. He still does—he always  _ tries  _ to do the right thing, and his heart is always in the right place. It's just... the serum made everythin’ about Stevie a lot more than it used to be.”

Peter listened openly, nodding his head so James would know that he was paying attention but keeping quiet. He thought over what James was saying and tried to reconcile that with what he knew of Captain America  _ and _ what he knew of Steve Rogers and... it just didn’t fit. But James was looking at him expectantly, and so he finally asked, “But... who is he doing right for? Doing the “right thing” doesn’t mean anything when he’s only doing whatever the right thing is for himself. His heart being in the right place doesn't matter if it hurts people.”

“Well, why do you fight?” James asked and there was a touch of  _ something _ that Peter couldn't identify in his voice.

Peter shrugged, dropping his eyes down to his hands even if he knew the answer. It was a question that he thought about a lot. Too much, maybe, since there were nights when just that very question kept him awake until dawn. It was something he considered at his lowest points, something he asked himself  _ every time _ he had to lie to Aunt May and drive the wedge between them further and further, every time he threw himself into a fight that he knew he didn’t know if he’d be able to win. 

Something he asked himself when he just did it all again and again and again. 

Peter knew why, and he said, “So many bad things happen in the world, and for some reason, I have all this power. If... if I didn't even  _ try  _ to stop the bad things from happening, they'd be my fault, ya know?” 

And  _ that _ was why Peter continued to fight, every single day, even when he didn’t want to. It was why he kept lying and kept going out and kept risking his life. It was why he couldn’t stop, no matter how badly he sometimes wished he could. Because if Peter did  _ nothing _ when he had the power and the means to do something and people got hurt, or they died... then that was on him. That was his fault. 

He just... sometimes he wished he didn’t have to. That he didn’t have all this power, or that he hadn’t been given it so young. That it wasn’t on him to save the damn world, or to risk himself again and again for people who would never appreciate all that he had to lose. He wished that he didn’t have to keep lying to Aunt May when she was his only living family and lying to her felt like he was tearing out his own heart. 

But he did. He had to at least try, because... Peter had this power, and it was so much that sometimes it was more than he knew what to do with, and he couldn't just sit back when people were getting hurt. If someone got hurt and he could have stopped it but didn’t do anything about it? No. That wasn’t even something that Peter liked to think about, because then it would be his fault. 

At least if he  _ tried, _ if he showed up and he fought and he risked his life but someone still got hurt? Well, he’d have done all that he could. He couldn't save everyone, he knew that— _ God, did he know that— _ and on dark days, days when it seemed like nothing he ever did would be enough, days when it all seemed to be for nothing, days when  _ he _ seemed to be all be for nothing, it seemed like he couldn’t save  _ anyone.  _

But if he tried... well, at least he’d tried, and he’d done his best, and hopefully, he’d saved a few people along the way. 

Peter took a deep breath and shrugged again, before he asked, “Why do you do it? I know you've gone on a few missions with the Avengers.” 

He’d tried to push down the uneasy feeling that was climbing up his throat and took a sip of his drink that did nothing to help, focusing back on James and forcing himself to stop picking at his cuticles. So much for an easy afternoon. 

“It's all I know how to do,” James told him, cold detachment leaking into his voice. “It's all I am.”

“James,” Peter started, making sure that his voice was softer than it’d been a moment ago and pushing away his own tattered feelings to focus on James, who looked lost all over again. “That's not true,” Peter told him firmly. “Even if it is, though, you can learn to be more. There’s so much that you could do and be,” he said enthusiastically, even if he had no idea how. But if James wanted to be more, Peter would do his damn best to help him. “I'm sure that Tony could help you with that?”

James blinked back up at him, the darkness in his eyes subsiding just a little and being replaced with a familiar curiosity. “You mean Stark?”

“Yeah!” Peter chirped, nodding his head quickly as he added, “if you wanted to learn something or do something different, I'm sure he'd be willing to help out in some way,” Peter told him confidently, bouncing a little as he started getting excited at the idea.

From what Peter knew about him so far, it didn’t really seem like James did a whole lot. Sure, he probably trained a lot, and he’d told Peter over text that he liked to read, but... Peter hummed under his breath as he thought through everything that’d James told him today and yesterday and realized that he hadn’t mentioned ever doing anything other than... well, training, reading and eating. 

“I don't think that Stark is my biggest fan, Peter,” James told him in a deadpan as he finally reached for another piece of cookie as Peter did the same, breaking off a section and popping it into his mouth as he tried to think over everything he knew about Tony and then washing down the cookie with the last dredges of his drink.

“Hmm, that might be true, but I'm pretty sure he's a big fan of mine,” Peter told him with a wink, which got James to chuckle under his breath again. Peter flashed him another smile, glad that the earlier tension was bleeding away now that they’d started talking about something else. “We talked about you the other day and I don't think he hates you as much as you might think he does,” Peter said, hoping that he wasn't doing anything wrong. 

Tony  _ had _ said that he needed to stop thinking of James as the killer who murdered his parents, and if they could somehow get along... well, Peter wasn't going to complain about getting more people on Tony's side,  _ especially _ if that person also lived in the Tower and could be there for Tony when he wasn’t. Plus, Tony knew May and Ned, and had met MJ that one time, so it would be kind of weird if he didn’t know James now that he and Peter were becoming friends, right?

“We'll see,” James finally relented after the silence had stretched between them but Peter’s smile hadn’t dimmed one bit. While he didn't sound convinced, Peter told himself to stay positive and fist-bumped the air to get James to laugh again, smiling even wider when he succeeded.

If James wanted more from his life, if he wanted to  _ do  _ something more than just fight bad guys and be a superhero, Peter would be there for him every step of the way. He had already caused him enough harm without even meaning to, and while James seemed to be settled, sitting relaxed in his booth and occasionally munching on little bites of his cookie, Peter would never forget the lifeless look to his eyes or the way his hands had been shaking with how tightly they’d been clenched together in the museum. 

He would do his best not to hurt James again, and he could only hope that supporting him with this would make up for what he’d already done. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As i mentioned at the beginning, I started writing this work in 2018, so the editing process has been crazy in depth. This chapter grew by just under 6,000 words during the "editing" process, which was insane. I really hope that you've liked it!!!


	4. Chapter 4

Peter let out a long exasperated sigh before flopping onto his bed and star-fishing his limbs out. His dramatics were appreciated by his empty bedroom, he was sure, and sighed again, even louder this time, into his pillow to really get his point across. It was only Wednesday but already Peter was ready for his entire week to be over. Senior year was  _ a lot;  _ maybe not the course load specifically, but all of the stressors that came along with graduating were weighing Peter down until it felt like there was just too much happening all the time and he couldn’t keep up. 

Focusing solely on school would have been enough, but when he had to deal with all of that on top of his work with Tony and his patrolling, well... it was starting to feel like it was just too much. He was always so busy and there wasn’t a single second of a single day that Peter didn’t have planned out. During the week he had school all day, his work with Tony most afternoons and if not that, focusing on his homework, before going out for patrol. On the weekends it was mostly homework, work with Tony, some time with May or Ned, then going out for patrol.

As his final semester of high school wore on and on, Peter felt like he was suffocating sometimes. All the time. There was just so much to do and so many decisions to make and it felt like he just had so little time to get it all done. But... every time Peter thought about dropping something or cutting down his time spent doing this or that, he realized that he couldn’t. Everything that he filled his time with was essential to him, and that was the hardest part.

Pushing his face further into his pillow and  _ trying  _ to relax into his bed, Peter felt a headache start to form along his temples as he mentally ran through all the things he still had to do that week, mentally mapping out what he could save for the weekend. No matter how he tried to plan it or how efficient he tried to be about it, there was always going to be work he had to push off. He hated that he couldn’t do everything all the time when it felt like he should be able to. 

He had  _ superpowers, _ there was no reason he shouldn’t be able to finish his homework the day it was assigned, right? Groaning about the existential pressures that came with just being  _ alive, _ Peter did his very best  _ not _ to think of all the things he still had to do before the semester was over. All the decisions he had to make. More and more it was starting to feel like he was doing just  _ too much _ and he wouldn’t be able to keep up, which was a thought spiral that invoked his fear of failure which ate and ate at him until he felt like he was nothing more than bare-bones and frayed nerves.

His phone pinged suddenly, the text tone startling him worse than it should have. Peter jerked across his bed in surprise, just another example of how tightly wound he was under the weight of everything that he had going on. Rolling his shoulders even though he was still lying down, he took a deep breath and tried to get his racing heart to calm down as he told himself it was  _ just  _ a text and that there was absolutely no reason for him to be freaking out. 

Once he felt relatively calm—or at least no more anxious than what had become his baseline—he grabbed blindly for his phone, reaching around his end table uselessly before giving up and peeking a single eye open. He cheered when he finally reached it, sticking his index finger to the screen to save it from falling off the table, before pulling it closer. 

Groaning at the sudden flood of horribly bright light in his dark room, Peter rushed to dim the screen even as he squinted his one open eye against the harsh light, trying to ignore the way his headache was suddenly pounding even harder. Uh, his enhanced healing should definitely get rid of his headache, shouldn't it?

“Useless superpowers,” Peter grumbled under his breath, finally getting the brightness to a manageable setting and turning tapping to switch his screen to a warmer tone so the blue light would stop  _ assaulting  _ his eyes with its intensity. “Rude,” Peter told his phone, before pulling down his notification menu as he hadn’t even checked the messages before adjusting the brightness. 

His phone pinged again as he tried to make sense of the swimming words in front of him, and his lips twisted up when he finally made out who all the texts were from and read through each one. 

_ From Mr. Stark (6:31 p.m): Captain tightass wants you to come by for group training _ _  
_ _ From Mr. Stark (6:31 p.m): I tried telling him to shove it but he wouldn't listen _ _  
_ _ From Mr. Stark (6:31 p.m): So this is me relaying the message _ _  
_ _ From Mr. Stark (6:32 p.m): (He was very insistent. It was horribly annoying. You better show up or you can’t have any ice cream for a week) _

Peter chuckled under his breath at the rapid-fire way the texts came through, smiling fondly at his phone screen as he finally thumbed into the message thread. Tony texted the same way he thought: way too fast for anyone to ever even hope of keeping up with if they weren’t a custom-made learning AI, random trains of thought starting and stopping and making way for new ones to barge into the conversation. 

Peter loved it—both in-person and over text—as keeping up with Tony was always an impossible challenge that caused him to push himself, even if Tony didn’t intend it that way. Tony’s mind was the most impressive Peter had ever had the pleasure of working with, and he was so smart that he constantly inspired Peter to learn more and work harder and just... be better. 

Tony Stark was the reason that Peter wanted to be a scientist in the first place. He’d looked up to the man and the things he made ever since he was a little boy, and getting to know him—as crazy and unbelievable and life-changing as it had been—hadn’t changed that. Peter still looked up to him, and he was constantly trying to better himself in the hope of inspiring even a fraction of the change in the world that Tony had directly caused. 

So with a grin, Peter typed out a response but knew that he was just prolonging the inevitable. He could only push off answering for so long before Tony would eventually just call him—it’d happened before countless times—so Peter bit the bullet and finally hit send. 

_ To Mr. Stark (6:33 p.m): When does he want this training to happen??? You know I'm not free during the week. _

_ From Mr. Stark (6:33 p.m): Don't worry kid, I got him to agree to Saturday. _ _  
_ _ From Mr. Stark (6:34 p.m): Will I see you there? _ _  
_ _ From Mr. Stark (6:34 p.m): I won’t actually take away your ice cream FRIDAY says that’s mean _

_ To Mr. Stark (6:35 p.m): sure _

Peter pressed send before he could chicken out and take it back. He grimaced even as the message went through, groaning under his breath and closing his eyes to take a few deep breaths and focusing on the fact that training with the Avengers always meant training with Tony, who he really liked and always enjoyed spending time and totally didn’t compensate for the fact that he’d have to see the rest of the team. 

Ugh, gross. 

There wasn’t a single fibre in Peter’s  _ entire being _ that wanted to go and train with the Avengers. Just... no. No to training. No to making nice and having to pretend, for  _ hours, _ that he liked them. No to what was probably going to be another hypocritical lecture from Captain America about how he was too young to be risking his life and how he should keep the world-saving to the adults. 

No to having to stop himself from punching that righteous ass in his stupid righteous face. Peter wasn’t even all that surprised that he’d been “requested”. As much as Peter  _ wasn’t _ an Avenger and didn’t want to be one, every now and again Captain America would forget that the team was governed by the Accords Council and demand his presence during a training session and throw an absolute  _ fit _ if he didn’t show up. 

Even more than he didn’t want to deal with them during training, he didn’t want to deal with what would happen if he didn’t show up, and he knew that Tony did actually want him there to see him and not just to placate the Captain, and that if he  _ did _ say no, Tony would just try to change his mind anyway. Plus... it wasn’t like he actually  _ wanted _ to leave Tony to deal with them all alone. 

Saying yes was the easiest option for everyone involved, and so Peter didn’t take his text back no matter how badly he wanted to tell Tony to tell Captain America to shove it.

The  _ very _ last thing in the entire world that he wanted to spend his Saturday doing was training with the damn Avengers (which, okay, might be a  _ bit _ of an exaggeration but he had a headache, sue him). Training with the Avengers—which he wasn’t a damn part of!—always put him in a mood that would last for days. The whole thing always ended up being an exercise in frustration, exacerbated by the fact that Peter had about a million other things he could be doing with his time. 

Things that would actually be worth his while and wouldn’t be completely redundant, like training with the Avenger’s always was. Peter and Tony had been training together every few weeks for long enough that Peter didn’t get hurt out on the field  _ nearly _ as much as he had before and it wasn’t like the team actually ever taught him anything, anyway. “Training” was usually just sparring that Peter refused to take part in, so it was usually him sitting around and practising his web-shooting at the large range on the Avenger’s training floor. 

It just... Peter had been doing this whole  _ superhero  _ thing on his own for two whole years, and he’d been doing stuff for months on his own before Tony decided to involve himself. He didn't need any additional “training” that wasn’t even training and he sure as heck didn't need to play nice with the Avengers. Not when they never bothered to play nice with him  _ or _ with Tony, who literally housed and fed and clothed them all. 

Sure, he may have been a little biased because of much he cared about Tony, but it wasn’t like any of the team were really great to him, either, except for maybe Bruce, who avoided team events, and crowds, and—Peter mentally flashed back to his horribly awkward first meeting where Bruce had rushed off and felt his cheeks heat up in a sympathetic blush for his own past embarrassment—people in general. 

Black Widow treated him like he wasn’t anything more than a silly child who couldn’t make the tough calls. She’d made enough snide comments about how “soft-hearted” Spider-Man was that he knew she didn’t take him seriously as an equal but rather thought he was below her because he didn’t kill criminals. An uncomfortably hypocritical attitude from someone who idolized the conveniently idealistic Captain.The  _ one  _ time he’d sparred with her, spurred on by the false assumption she wouldn’t be as awful as the others, she’d held herself back and Peter hadn’t even learned anything. 

Hawkeye and Falcon were just assholes that talked badly about Tony whether or not he was around and didn’t even seem to care that Tony could hear them when they complained about him—despite, again, living in his Tower and using his money—and most of the time Peter was around them, he was forcibly holding himself back from smacking them upset the head hard enough to knock some sense into them. 

Scarlet Witch was literally the worst person in the entire world, if you asked Peter, Vision was super weird, and Captain America was just... Captain America. He could never quite shake the thought that the good Captain only insisted he attended training every so often to exert his authority and make sure that Peter knew where he stood, which for a self-purported hater of bullies was... just like,  _ so gross  _ on so many levels.

Ugh. Even further convinced that training with the Avengers was absolutely a waste of his time and the last thing in the world he wanted to do, Peter opened his messages app to send another text telling Tony that he couldn't make it but before he could hit send another text popped up.

_ From Mr. Stark (6:38 p.m): Thanks kid _

Well, crap.

That settled that, Peter thought with another deep sigh. 

He’d promised himself once that he would  _ never  _ knowingly do something to hurt Tony, not after everything Tony had ever given him and done for him and been to him. Peter knew that he would never be able to repay Tony for all that he’d done, not in any way that mattered, but  _ this  _ he could do. He could be someone that didn’t hurt Tony. He could be Tony’s friend until he decided that he didn't want Peter in his life anymore—which he hopefully never did—and if that meant enduring training with a group of people he didn't like  _ at all... _ well, that's what he was going to do.

Because Tony deserved, more than anything in the world, to have people who put him first in the same way that he was always putting everyone else in his life first. With everything that Tony had ever done for him, Peter could, at the very least, be in his corner no matter what. And if Tony was inviting him for training it meant that he wasn’t going to be able to wiggle out of it either, and Peter wasn’t going to make him go through that alone. 

Not when the team sucked so hard. 

So Peter deleted the text he’d typed out and sent back a thumbs-up emoji, groaning so loudly that his head pounded, but then still groaning again when that didn't feel like an adequately vehement display of his emotions. Rolling his eyes at himself, Peter plugged in his phone before shimming out of his jeans and tossing his t-shirt onto the floor. 

It wasn’t even seven, but Peter was  _ exhausted  _ and thinking about Saturday only made him more tired. Going to bed early sounded like an excellent idea, and he sent off a quick text to May to let her know he was sleeping before closing his eyes and letting sleep pull him under.

* * *

When Saturday finally rolled around after the longest week of Peter’s  _ life  _ and the alarm he’d specifically set just for that morning started blaring on his end table, Peter wanted to curse the entire freaking world. Without even looking at the time Peter knew it was  _ too early _ —mostly because he’d set his alarm for the crack of dawn, which, on a  _ Saturday _ was definitely eight in the morning.

Peter was so tired that it took what felt like  _ forever _ before he had enough strength in his limbs to shut off his alarm, and even all he did was uselessly flap his hand about before the electric ringing of his alarm finally stopped and he was plunged back into peaceful silence. Peter made a happy noise as he wiggled back down into his bed, getting comfortable and ignoring the fact that he had to wake up and get moving eventually, and decided he totally deserved a little more sleep.

His week had ended the same way it’d begun: long and stressful and totally overwhelming. His teachers didn’t seem to care that there were less than two months of school left and were piling the homework onto their shoulders like they were freshmen all the teachers were angry with. 

He’d been doing homework until near midnight before he’d  _ finally _ pushed himself out of his window for patrol, which ended up taking way longer than he’d been expecting since he was trying to track down a ring of criminals that he was  _ sure _ were all working together to illegally sell and trade weapons. The entire night had been a bust and Peter hadn’t found anything worthwhile despite spending hours out searching. 

He got home so late that all he’d managed to do was strip, kick his suit under his bed, and flop out onto his mattress. It felt like he’d lied down, closed his eyes, and then his alarm was going off. Jolting across his bed in surprise, Peter’s alarm started going off  _ again  _ and he groaned into his pillow in defeat, scrambling for his phone to make the horrible, ear-splitting screech of his alarm stop. 

Sending his phone a glare, Peter unlocked it and spent a minute going through his notifications as he yawned so widely it cracked his jaw and made his eyes water. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly with his free hand, lazily typing a response to a text from Ned asking if he was free that day. Slowly, Peter felt his higher brain functions join the rest of him in the land of the living, and he groaned again in personal protest at being awake this early. 

After another few minutes of lazing around half-awake, Peter accepted the inevitable and rolled off his bed. He dropped to the floor with a grunt, but the shock of impact helped wake him up and he shook his head around as he oriented himself. Groaning again—seriously, having to wake up early on a  _ weekend  _ should be outlawed—Peter slowly pushed himself to his feet before kicking through the laundry on his floor as he tried to find something to throw on.

He found a fitted pair of track pants and a big shirt that used to belong to Ben and pulled them both on before shuffling into the bathroom to get ready. Deodorant? Check. Facial Hair? None there, so check. Teeth? ...mouthwash was probably good enough, right? Eh, check. Peter looked at himself in the mirror and scrubbed at his hair, wondering if bed head was an acceptable look and then realizing it didn’t really matter anyway, since no one but Tony would actually see him. 

He smiled at his reflection, then cringed when he took in just how tired he looked. Yawning, he pouted at the mirror before washing his hands and then scrubbing at his face to try to wake himself up just a little bit more, slapping at his cheeks in a desperate attempt to get his brain running at least a little bit more. Gosh, he just wanted to go to bed. 

Grumbling about stupid geniuses who called him kid, Peter stumbled down the hall in search of sustenance, his stomach growling hungrily as he scratched it. May was already up and in the kitchen when he finally entered the room, frying something on the stove as she hummed to herself. Her hair was messy and she was also in one of Uncle Ben’s shirts, an apron tied around her waist to keep it clean. Peter felt a smile tug at his face as he watched, struck, not for the first time, with just how gorgeous she was. 

“Morning, May,” he called out, leaning against the wall and pulling out his phone when it buzzed in his pocket. He read the text from Tony asking if he was up and replied with a dozing emoji. 

“Good morning, Pete,” May greeted, turning and sending him an easy smile. “Why’re you up so early? More plans with James?”

When he’d gotten back the weekend before, May forced him into another conversation about who James was. Peter had stuck with his story, telling her that he’d stumbled across him while at the Tower with Tony. It must have been believable enough since it  _ was _ actually totally possible, and May had eventually stopped teasing him about handsome older men—which had made Peter blush horrifically darkly because of how accurate her remarks really were. 

“Nope, I’m heading to the lab today,” he told her, shuffling the rest of the way into the kitchen and slumping into one of the chairs at their little table. He slipped on the pair of socks he’d stuffed into his pocket before grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl and cramming it into his mouth before looking at May hopefully. 

“I’m making an omelette and I  _ guess _ you can have some,” she told him with an eye roll, and then asked, “why the lab this early?”

“Oh, Tony asked me to come so we could finish a project we’re working on as soon as possible, even though this is, like, the devil’s hour. I mean, I’m excited because we’re getting really close to a breakthrough on the reinforced silk string, and we're both really excited to be done with it, but  _ oh my gosh _ is the sun even up yet?” Peter groaned, flopping forward onto the table and closing his eyes. 

“I see,” May told him slowly, and then said, “come get yourself a plate if you want some of this food.”

Peter hopped to his feet and got a plate with his eyes closed, holding out his hands with a big smile on his face that May eyes warily. “Talking about things that I don’t understand isn’t going to make me believe you anymore than if you were talking about things I do understand, just so you know,” May told him seriously. 

Her eyes were piercing, and Peter had to force himself to hold her eyes when he said, “I really am going to the Tower, May,” with only the smallest amount of guilt since he  _ was _ actually going to the tower... even if he wasn’t going there for the reasons he’d told her. The reinforced silk string was just a toned-down version of the web formula that Tony thought could be used by first responders and in other industrial ropes to create stronger bonds. Since it was originally Peter’s formula, it was going to be patented under his name which... honestly, Peter wasn’t even totally sure what that meant, but he was really excited nonetheless. 

“Okay, sweetheart,” she gave him another smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes and Peter bussed her cheek without saying anything about it, settling at the table to scarf down his omelette before leaving. He’d have to eat a few of the specially formulated energy bars that Tony manufactured for him before he got to the tower, but he could do that on his walk to the alley.

May joined him at the table and switched to a conversation about their upstairs neighbours, and both of them ignored everything the other wasn’t saying as they enjoyed having breakfast together. 

* * *

Peter landed lightly on his balcony, letting the strand of quick-dissolving web formula he was trying out slip from his grasp as he slipped through the door to the room Tony had given him, automatically being opened by Karen. Peter mostly used the bedroom for storage. It was where he kept his spare comfy clothes at the Tower—sweatpants and baggy hoodies that he could change into after school—but he had used it to spend the night a few times he told May he was staying at Ned's and really went to track down a specific baddie. While he’d normally just slip out of his room during the night, if Peter was tracking someone down and knew it was going to take longer than his usual few-hour-long patrols, he tended to spend the whole night out and then crash here.

The bedroom was ridiculously nice, though that was to be a given considering it was on Tony Stark’s penthouse floor. A little thrill went through him every time he thought about the fact he had his very own bedroom on Tony’s personal floor. Even for being on the floor that it was, it was a pretty simple room; there was a stupidly gigantic bed centred against the side wall. Peter tossed his bag onto it as he entered the room (a bed so expensive Peter would probably cry if he ever saw the price of it) which sat opposite of a large, paper-thin Stark TV that was connected to more game consoles than Peter knew what to do with (which was a setup so amazing  _ Ned _ would probably cry if he ever even saw it). 

Other than that, there was a huge wardrobe and an attached bathroom, but there wasn’t anything else. Peter had been in Tony’s bedroom a few times, and there was like, an entire little  _ home _ in there, with a kitchen and living area of its own. Peter was glad that  _ his _ bedroom wasn’t so crazy, since this... simple room had been hard enough for him to accept. 

He’d tried to refuse it, at first, telling Tony that he didn’t need a room at the Tower and that it was  _ fine, _ really, that he could just swing back to Queens when he needed to. But Tony had been insistent, telling him that he was free to use it whenever he needed and that F.R.I.D.A.Y would get him anything he wanted if— _ somehow— _ there was something that he still wanted. There totally wasn’t, since his  _ bedroom _ was literally almost the size of his and May’s apartment, and sure it was a little sparse but... Peter wouldn’t even know what else to put in here!

In the end, he’d only accepted it when Tony called it a gift. 

Aunt May had raised him right—at least, mostly—and Peter would  _ never _ refuse a gift from someone, even if he didn’t like it. Not liking was definitely not the problem with the bedroom, though. Peter... well, he wasn’t sure that he deserved it. At the time, Tony had hardly been anything more than a mentor—had still been Mr. Stark, actually—and he hadn’t been able to imagine why someone as... well, as  _ amazing _ as Tony Stark would want him around. 

It was easier now that they were something that resembled friends. Even still, it was totally overwhelming that he had a  _ bedroom _ on  _ Tony Stark’s personal floor.  _ A floor that not even the Avengers—save Dr. Banner, apparently—had access to. Sometimes he felt bad that he didn't use it more often, or that he didn’t stay the night after research binges (since he usually went out for patrol), but after giving it to him, Tony hadn’t ever brought it up. 

Peter knew really well just how much space Tony had (they definitely had never played hide-and-seek throughout the Tower), but he... well, he still understood the significance of Tony giving him a room on his floor, and he still hoped that he’d been able to convey that when first accepting it.

“Hello, Peter,” F.R.I.D.A.Y greeted kindly, though her voice echoed through the speakers within Peter's mask instead of sounding out from the walls like she usually would. He didn’t mind, seeing as she only ever did it when he was inside the Tower and wearing his mask. It pulled Peter from his thoughts and he realized that he was just sort of standing around. 

Oh gosh, he must have been really tired. 

“How are you today?” F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice continued, and Peter shrugged his shoulders. 

“I'm alright, Fri,” Peter told her around a yawn as he headed to the big, wall-height wardrobe that kept his spare clothes and some less advanced suits that Peter had never wanted to get rid of for sentimental reasons. 

Yawning  _ again _ as he pulled the cupboard open, Peter only hoped that his adrenaline would kick in when he was around the team, because  _ damn _ he was still exhausted. The trip over hadn’t done nearly as much to wake him up as he had been expecting, and it still felt like he was only half awake as he stumbled about. 

“Karen informs me that you are tired,” F.R.I.D.A.Y accused him, and once again Peter would have sworn he heard something that sounded suspiciously like concern in her tone of voice, despite what Tony insisted upon when it came to AI’s and their feelings. 

“Yeah, I am, but I'm alright,” Peter told her, ignoring how weird it felt to know that his AI and Tony's AI talked to each other. He dug through a drawer filled with specially manufactured energy bars until he found one that was covered in peanut butter, giving a little cheer as he grabbed... yeah, three of them seemed like a good idea. 

Once he had one opened and his mask was shoved up to his nose so he could eat it, he checked the time in the corner of his HUD display and frowned when it was already nine; training with the Avengers sucked a whole bunch to begin with, but it was even worse when that training started at  _ nine. _ On a  _ Saturday!  _

“Where is everyone?” he asked, munching on his bar as he walked over and jumped onto the edge of his bed, bouncing a bit on the comfortable mattress. 

“Tony, along with the rest of the team, are in the training room, Peter,” F.R.I.D.A.Y told him, and Peter didn't miss the way she hadn’t grouped Tony in with the rest of the Avengers. Peter snorted, finishing his first energy bar before starting on the second, pushing himself up and lumbering to the bathroom to get a glass of water to wash the sticky peanut butter down with.

“Thanks,” Peter told her, once he’d swallowed, then started on a second bar as he moved back to the bedroom, cup of water in hand and energy bars in the other. 

He dropped his goods off on the ridiculously big end table beside the bed and then grabbed his bag, having to hop onto the bed to reach it. He pulled out his suit and changed quickly, leaving the clothes he’d worn over in a pile on the floor for later. Peter didn’t usually swing around in just his mask, but sometimes it was fun to swing around in civilian’s clothes, since the way he interacted with the air was so much different. 

Once he was changed he finished off his second bar and started on his third, eating it quickly before downing the rest of his water. Once he was done, he made his way through the Tower slowly, knowing he was running late but not at all feeling up to rushing to something he didn’t even want to do. 

There was only one elevator that accessed Tony’s floor and you needed, like,  _ so much _ security clearance to enter it. As it was, the door opened automatically, seeing as he was wearing his suit and F.R.I.D.A.Y already knew that it was him. Peter tapped his fingers against his leg nervously as the elevator took him down to the training room—training  _ floor,  _ actually, since Tony had repurposed an entire level (Peter actually suspected it was  _ two _ levels) when the Avengers had first been formed so many years ago, which he’d made into an insanely impressive floor. 

The elevators opened up to an open room larger than anything Peter had ever seen—seriously, it was bigger than the gym at his school. Peter was pretty sure that the wide, open area was half the size of the entire tower, and the ceilings were crazy high. There were showers and change rooms that could be used that were all an immediate left of the elevator exit, though Tony hadn’t ever been in them. The sprawling space was split into different sections that fit the different needs of all the Avengers perfectly, which Peter thought was really amazing since in  _ his _ opinion, the Avengers didn’t deserve anything at all from Tony, least of all personalized training areas. 

Just like there were change rooms to the left of the elevator, there was a long, sprawling range to the right. He knew it’d first been built for Hawkeye, secondly Black Widow, and now James used it too. Peter hadn’t yet had a training session with James on the team, but he’d heard from Tony that James had started using the range instead of sparring with any of the others, which, from Tony’s rant—and from what he now knew about James—had been what the others all expected of him. 

Peter got it—he wouldn’t have wanted to spar with any of the Avengers, either, and the only person he ever sparred with was Tony. Which... was actually one of the main reasons Peter hated coming to these damn training sessions, since he wasn’t going to be even doing anything productive. He refused to spar with any of them in the boxing ring that Captain America loved and technically he  _ could _ practise his web-slinging with Falcon, but Falcon was super annoying.

Peter usually just worked out in the gym section or ran on the treadmills so Tony could measure his speed,  _ or _ sparred with Tony when he was around. Still, he could already tell that today was going to be a huge waste of his time, and he tried his best not to think about all the work he had at home that he  _ should _ be doing but was instead  _ not _ doing any of it just because Tony had called him kid. Huffing at his own sentimentality, Peter entered the training room quietly, the elevator silently swooshing open before him. He peeked his head in and looked around the room silently, frowning when he didn’t see Tony  _ or _ James anywhere in the room. 

Hoping to avoid all of the team that he  _ could  _ see, Peter sneaked onto the floor and knew the music blaring from around the room would cover any noise he could possibly be making, even though he was staying silent. Hawkeye was, predictably, at his range, but he was the only one. Scarlet Witch and Vision were, as usual, just floating around a padded corner of the room together and doing... probably weird mind stuff that Peter didn’t want to know about anyway. 

Even though Peter was now on the floor, he still couldn’t see James or Tony anywhere. He figured that he could be in the augmented reality chamber, which was a room that Tony had designed from the ground up which used nanotechnology to run drills and simulations that recreated real and potential fights, both so they could train for new threats and to analyze their past battles. 

It was literally the coolest thing Peter had  _ ever  _ seen. Seriously, the first time he’d tried it out, he’d been so awed by the literally mind-numbing technology built into every single inch of the room that Tony had to pull the drill because Peter hadn't been able to properly pay attention and had nearly gotten fried by a laser beam. 

He’d praised Tony for  _ hours _ afterwards, refusing to stop his enthusiastic gushing and question-asking even when the man got embarrassed and started blushing. It was seriously a work of art, and Peter couldn’t even  _ guess _ how much time or how much _ genius  _ it would have taken to put it all together. Frowning, Peter slowly shuffled through the room, sticking close to the locker rooms when he noticed that Captain America and Black Widow were sparring in the boxing ring with Falcon egging them on. 

On the wall next to the lockers, there was a video feed that played out what was going on inside the reality chamber and... yep, Tony and James were running a drill together. Peter watched as the two of them worked together, seemingly effortless, taking out a gigantic robot with ease. The simulation flashed and then changed, so Peter looked back around the room as he did his best not to draw any attention to himself—at least, no more attention than his bright costume would draw naturally. 

Hulk was sitting further to the left, tucked away against the wall with his legs spread out in front of him and frowning down at the floor. Peter paused in surprise; it was very,  _ very _ rare for Hulk  _ or _ Dr. Banner to be down in the training with them. He... well, he couldn’t really do anything  _ to _ train, considering Hulk’s form of attack was simply to smash everything and anything in sight. Which... certainly had a time and place, but that and place was  _ definitely _ not in training. 

In the end, he just hoped that sitting with Hulk would deter any of the others from trying to talk to him and decided that was reason enough. He walked over slowly, having to push down a bit of unease that immediately started welling up at the sight of the big guy, his hand aching with phantom pain. It definitely wasn’t his fault that he’d broken Peter’s hand, considering Peter had been the one to jump in front of him in the first place, but... there was still a part of him that remembered his entire hand breaking under Hulk’s fist regardless. 

Pushing that all away, Peter took a deep breath and quietly said, “Hey, big green!”

He sat cross-legged beside Hulk's knee, folding his hands into his lap as he looked up at the big guy. He sat facing Hulk in hopes of further deterring any of the team from speaking with him even if they  _ did _ see him, but so far his senses weren’t pinging like they usually did when an Avenger focused their attention on him. 

Hulk looked up from where he’d been frowning down at the floor, his eyes widening as he caught sight of Peter. Peter watched with his own wide eyes as the expression on Hulk’s face completely transformed, his frown morphing into one the brightest smiles had ever seen in his entire life. 

“Spider!” Hulk cheered, relatively quiet but with enough enthusiasm underlying the simple greeting that Peter blushed in embarrassment underneath his mask. Wow, Hulk sounded  _ way _ too excited to see him considering they’d had all of one conversation. 

“How are you?” Peter asked, not looking to see if anyone had noticed him come in—the  _ last _ thing he needed to do was jinx it—and instead, he focused his attention solely on Hulk.

Hulk cocked his head to the side. It was a little strange seeing such an expressive look on his face, and as a crease formed between his eyebrows, Peter couldn’t help but think that... well, Hulk looked  _ adorably  _ confused. To add to that, Hulk made a questioning noise, a humming sound that seemed to vibrate through him the floor, which Peter since his senses were always dialled up to eleven. Hulk met his eyes before he asked, “Spider?”

It was Peter’s turn to be confused, since he wasn’t entirely sure what it could be that was causing Hulk to stare at him with such a lack of understanding. Hulk definitely knew how to follow orders, even if his grasp on language seemed to be pretty simple. Deciding to play it safe, but just said, “Yeah, Hulk, I’m Spider-Man! How are you doing?”

Hulk nodded at him slowly, that same look of confusion only deepening over his features. Peter was worried that Hulk still hadn’t understood him until he tilted his head upwards and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling as if he was looking inside for the answer. Which... was also kind of adorable, actually, and Peter bit into his bottom lip to stop himself from giggling.

After a few moments of patiently waiting, Hulk looked back down at him and nodded his head rapidly as his earlier smile stretched back across his face. Peter felt his own face split into a grin, and he asked, “You’re doing good?” just to make sure he understood what Hulk was telling him. 

Hulk’s smile grew even wider and then his cheeks  _ dimpled, _ and Peter mentally cooed, so very glad that he was wearing a mask when Hulk started adorably bobbing his head up and down. “That’s good! I’m glad to hear that, Hulk!” Peter told him sincerely, smiling up at him under his mask. 

Peter had his hands still folding together in his lap, and was fiddling with his fingers nervously. He didn’t think anything of it until Hulk raised his hand and a sharp, blinding panic shot through him and stole his breath away. He sucked in a sharp, sudden breath through his nose and did his best to push the unexpected worry away, focusing instead on Hulk’s incredibly kind smile and the  _ dimples _ on his face and not the way it’d felt for his hand to be broken under the force of his fist. 

When the twisting panic had finally ebbed enough for Peter to focus on what was in front of him, he realized that Hulk was pointing at... him? Peter cocked his head to the side as he focused on the giant green limb, staring at Hank’s extended finger until he realized that he was definitely being pointed at. 

“What?” he asked unthinkingly, looking past the girth of Hulk’s finger and up to his slowly dimming smile, mentally replaying their interaction and doing his best to move past any lingering bits of worry or fear as he focused back on their conversation. “Oh! I’m sorry Hulk, yes, yes, of course! Um... I’m doing pretty good, big guy! Thank you so much for asking!”

Hulk’s smile expanded again, and by the way his dimples deepened, he seemed incredibly pleased with himself  _ and _ with Peter, which made him feel, like, ridiculously pleased with himself. Warmth curled up through his chest as he watched the big guy look back down at the ground, but his frown was nowhere in sight, just a soft smile curling his lips as he traced shapes on the floor. 

Hulk... honestly didn’t look anything like the media portrayed him. As Peter studied the green dude’s giant face, he realized just how much he looked like a  _ man.  _ When photos of Hulk were spread around online, or in the news, he was usually wearing a frown, or a snarl, or was even mid-fight and was roaring. Like this, just sitting with Peter and staring down at his hands, he realized that Hulk looked... well, he looked like  _ Dr. Banner.  _ If there was any face that Peter knew, it was that one—there  _ may _ have been a few years with a certain poster on his wall—and as Peter gazed up at Hulk, he noted the similarities between the two of them.

The bridge of their nose, the shape of their eyebrows, the curve of their hairline. Hulk had a sharper jaw than he remembered Dr. Banner having when they ran into each other, but otherwise... the base structure of their faces was the same. Despite being big, and green, there was something much more humanesque about Hulk that he’d never realized before, but couldn’t help but noticing now. Something... something almost  _ handsome.  _

Which,  _ oh my gosh, _ was totally not something that Peter needed to think about  _ at all, _ so he very quickly squeaked out, “Why aren't you with the others?” 

Hulk’s head slowly turned back to look at him, and he stared at Peter wordlessly for a few minutes wherein Peter waited patiently and didn’t say anything, letting Hulk take all the time he needed, since earlier he’d just needed to think through his answer. 

“They... no Hulk smash,” Hulk told him plainly, though the  _ despair  _ in his voice was so prominent, so  _ palpable,  _ that Peter’s heart ached. 

Looking around the room, Peter pushed down his surprise at hearing Hulk speak so clearly and found that he couldn’t get over just how upset Hulk had sounded. Clearly, not being able to smash was a point of hurt for the big guy, which honestly made a lot of sense. Peter hated coming to the training sessions because there was never anything to do; why would Hulk feel differently than Peter did when he also showed up just to sit around and not do anything? 

Once again cocking his head to the side—and smiling warmly when Hulk copied the movement—Peter felt a plan began to form, hazy thoughts layering together to create something clearer. From what he could see of the training floor, he didn’t think that there was a specific place for Hulk to train. Nothing out here, anyway, and Peter didn’t want to bring Hulk into the augmented reality chamber without talking to Tony about it first, just in case. 

Taking a deep breath, Peter decided to throw caution to the wind, and he asked, “I'm really sorry that you don't have anything you’re able to do, big guy. Do you want to spar with me?”

He tapped his fingers against his thighs as he tried his best to ignore the nervous fluttering in his stomach, focusing instead on the way Hulk’s smile had dimmed when he admitted he wasn’t allowed to smash and wanting to get that smile back, and then  _ not  _ focusing on just  _ why _ he wanted to make Hulk smile again. 

“Smash... Spider?” Hulk's voice rang with confusion that was, once again, palpable. His language may be limited, but he was so expressive that it was easy to tell what he was saying despite the few words he used to get his message across. 

Peter was quickly becoming  _ really  _ fond of the small crease that formed between his brows every time he frowned like that. 

Peter smiled under his mask, excitement beginning to replace the nervousness he'd been feeling as his plan really began to take hold and shape up in his thoughts. He rose to his feet in one fluid movement, bouncing on his toes as excitement bubbled up his chest and made him giddy. 

“If you think you're fast enough!” he taunted, taking a few steps backwards and then motioning for Hulk to come after him when the man stayed stock still, doing nothing but staring at Peter with confusion.

Then, a light seemed to brighten within Hulk’s eyes, and his voice was hinged with a nervous sort of hesitancy when he asked, “Smash Spider?”

“You can try, but I don’t think you’ll be fast enough to catch me,” Peter teased, mentally crossing his fingers that Hulk was going to get it and... then cheering when the big guy  _ did, _ a  _ beaming _ smile stretching across his face and lighting up the whole room. 

“Smash Spider,” Hulk said again, though this time there was an edge of excitement in his voice that hadn't been there before, and Peter couldn’t help the way he grinned behind his mask as Hulk’s pure joy infected him. 

When Peter nodded in confirmation, Hulk clambered up to his feet and Peter let out a peal of laughter at the sight of such a large being excitedly rushing to stand and all the noise that came with that. Peter squatted low to the floor, taking a deep breath before he jumped and launched himself up and backwards. His body arched through the air before he tucked his knees up to carry his legs up and over himself. As he was mid-flip he shot out a web and used his momentum to pull the web tight, using the tension to launch himself forward. 

They had more than enough room to play chase through the training floor and it sure as heck beat the two of them sitting around. Peter pulled his legs up under him, releasing the web he was holding and letting himself free fall through the air before he shot out another. He could Hulk stomping after him, each step he took echoing through the room as Peter focused on tracking his progression even as he kept himself moving. 

The hairs over the back of his neck suddenly stood on end and he threw out his arm to launch another web, turning sharply through the air. His heart rate kicked up and his stomach fell right of him when he felt a rush of air go by him that could be nothing but a near-miss with Hulk's arm.  _ Too close, Peter! _

The chase—which was essentially a  _ very _ fun game of tag—continued. 

Peter's heart was thumping wildly with excitement as another bout of laughter bubbled up and out of his throat. He led Hulk around the room, listening as Hulk chased after him with his own roaring laughter that lit up Peter’s chest with pure joy. His “spider-senses” (as Ned  _ insisted  _ Peter call them even if he  _ totally _ hated the name) would “tingle” (gosh, Ned was weird; did Peter ever freaking love him) every time Hulk got too close, which was happening more and more often as they continued to rush through the training floor. 

Still, he was able to dodge fairly easily; if there was one thing that Peter was good at, it was web-slinging, and he was, if he had to say so himself,  _ incredibly _ agile moving through the air. Hulk may be fast, but he was so  _ big _ that he was slow to turn whereas Peter could throw out a web and turn in a flowing arch  _ or _ such a hard turn his body was pulled in an approximation of a right angle. 

Hulk was just too... sturdy to turn as smoothly. When he ran forward he was like a  _ tank, _ and Peter figured he’d be pretty much unstoppable if he built up enough momentum. That meant that Peter’s agility was his advantage, and he used that to stay out of Hulk’s path. Flexing his advantage, Peter spun through the air and pulled himself in sharp turns to keep away from Hulk’s wind-milling arms. If he kept swinging straight for too long Hulk would easily catch up to him, and Peter remembered just how hard Hulk could throw a punch. 

With a racing heart and limbs light with adrenaline, Peter let go of the web he’d been holding, flying through the air in a graceful arch and landing against a wall, sticking himself to its surface and looking back. Hulk was standing in the middle of the room with his arms still swinging about himself and only stopping when he noticed Peter on the wall.

“Don't just swing your arms around without looking, big guy, try to aim yourself!” Peter called after him, launching himself off the wall with as much pressure as he could before throwing out a web and swinging his legs under him as he arched through the air to increase his momentum.

Peter swung around the room, dutifully ignoring the way the Avengers had all grouped together in the boxing ring and were now just standing around watching him. He couldn’t afford to think about them or the way they were gawking after the two of them, and instead, he focused all of his attention on staying away from Hulk who was getting better and better at keeping up with him even though Peter was still pulling out every trick he had in his web-slinging-book. 

As he kept pushing and pushing himself, webs started to gather around the room, differing lengths all still hanging from the ceiling. Peter used them to his advantage, leading Hulk back through paths he’d just come from in hopes that he would start to tangle himself around the webs and that they’d slow him down.

It didn't work, but it did seem to annoy him, which slowed him down either way. Hulk lost some momentum when he took a moment to bat at the webs surrounding his face, roaring as he pulled some from the wall and then growling loudly when they stuck to his hand. Peter swung up onto the ceiling, looking upside-down only to find Hulk shaking his hand aggressively to try to get the webs sticking to him to fall away. 

Peter couldn’t keep denying himself what he knew was true: Hulk looked adorable with the same crease Peter enjoyed furrowing his brows together and a sweet little pout on his face when he started poking at his palm ineffectively. 

His laughter rang through the silent room, and he sucked in a sharp breath to quell his burning lungs as he called, “Focus, big green!” waiting until Hulk looked up at him with a look of surprise colouring his features before he started moving. 

With a grin, Peter broke out into a dead sprint, running over the ceiling directly at him. As he kept moving he aimed, then shot out a web at Hulk's hand where it was hovering in the air, getting it covered in webbing before he yanked with all his strength to pull him off balance. As he stumbled forward, Peter jumped down and landed behind Hulk on light feet. He immediately broke out into another dead sprint, pushing himself as fast as he physically could when he heard footsteps start to slam after him.

Peter was fast, but Hulk was faster. The distance started to close between them so Peter jumped into the air, getting web-borne once again. He threw out his arm and made a sharp turn, the same way he'd done countless times before as Hulk ran after him, but  _ this _ time his entire body went tight, mid-swing, and he threw out a web that snagged on the floor and pulled him into a head dive towards the ground. 

As he rolled into a somersault before pushing him onto his feet, every inch of his skin tingled and he  _ knew _ he’d just cut it way too close for his comfort. Breaking out into another sprint, Peter took long, leaping strides to try to put distance between them before he jumped, throwing out another web to get him back into the air a little desperately. He knew he could pick up more speed when he wasn’t stuck on the ground but no matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to get away. 

Hulk was doing better and better with keeping up with him as he spun around the training floor, and Peter found he had to try  _ much  _ harder to keep avoiding him. As Peter’s heart beat quickly against his rib cage, he realized that Hulk was no longer blindly swinging his fists through the air, but that he was trying to cut Peter off.  _ Shit.  _

As impressed as Peter was at how fast Hulk was catching on, that was only secondary to the way adrenaline was slamming through his veins and keeping him moving faster than he’d  _ ever _ moved before. He was  _ just _ skating by on the edge of his teeth... until he wasn’t. 

Hulk’s hand gently tapped his back and threw him off balance. The web he’d been holding onto slipped from his fingers and he went free-falling through the air, hitting the ground hard. Peter burst out in laughter, rolling across the ground and coming to a stop on the flat of his back. He stared up at the ceiling breathlessly, giggles wracking through him. Hulk came to a stumbling stop above him, huge feet on either side of Peter’s body as he stared down at him with a look on his face that seemed half-way between horror and joy. 

“Smash Spider, but... laughing?” Hulk asked him quietly, and Peter started nodding his head quickly. 

“That was  _ amazing  _ Hulk!” Peter cheered, pushing himself to his feet and holding out his hand. 

Hulk stared at it for several moments before gently tapping it with one big finger. “Hell yeah! Good job big guy,” Peter praised, then felt his smile grow behind his mask as he asked, “think you can do it again?” before he was back to throwing himself through the air. 

And then, seconds later, Hulk was back to chasing after him.

“Spider-Man watch out! What are you doing?” roared Captain America, shooting through Peter’s concentration and throwing him off. 

He fumbled for the web he’d been reaching for and missed, fumbling through the air before managing to throw out his arm and grab another, swaying in a low arch that brought him only inches from the ground before launching himself back up to soar through the air. He shot out another web as Hulk’s gaining footsteps got louder and louder, taking a short turn through the open space that didn’t seem to get Hulk any further away. 

Crap! He didn’t have nearly enough time to build up the momentum he needed and Hulk was  _ too close.  _ The back of his neck was burning hot and the goosebumps erupted over his  _ entire body.  _ He tried to throw himself in another direction but Hulk was  _ right there  _ and he tried to turn again but all he could do was let out a startled cry when Hulk managed to hit him, the back of his hand colliding with Peter's torso and his left arm, sending him flying through the air and towards the wall. 

Peter spun wildly through the air, too disorientated to stop or slow his tailspin, and he collided with the wall with enough impact that it travelled through his entire body, the collision shaking all the way to the tips of his toes and the ends of his fingers, and his neck snapped back and—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HULK!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> It’s been a rough few days, so comments would be extra appreciated right now <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry this chapter was a week late! During editing/rewriting, I added a little over 8,000 words, making this the longest chapter so far—which was not what I’d been expecting when I started working on it. We _should_ be back on schedule for bi-weekly Wednesday uploads now!

Peter woke in a rush of flailing limbs and panicked thoughts, adrenaline racing through his veins as he jolted upwards from the floor. He was disoriented, enough so that it took him a moment to collect his bearings. Gasping for air and frantically pushing himself into a sitting position, it was only Karen's calm voice in his ears that kept him from freaking out even further. When he glanced around the room, dread pooled low in his belly at seeing the entire group of Avengers—James and Tony now included—crowded around him in a loose semi-circle.

Ah, crap. That probably didn’t mean anything good, huh?

Peter groaned loudly, though it was more out of annoyance than pain as he pushed himself into a sitting position. He did his best to ignore the pounding in his head, wondering if _that_ was more out of annoyance than pain as well. Thankfully it was lessening even as he got himself into an upright position, but it wasn’t going away _nearly_ fast enough. It felt like his head was going to beat its way out of his skull with how aggressively his brain was pulsing. Damn, was this what a concussion felt like?

Figuring he probably wasn’t concussed, since Karen hadn't said anything about it and she’d, like, totally know if he was, Peter took stock of the rest of his body. Which... well it all hurt, actually, especially his right arm. Peter figured it must have collided with the wall he was thrown into, all because he had his concentration shot. Frowning under his mask, he cradled his right arm against his chest as he got his feet under him, not liking the fact that he felt so defenceless with so many threats standing before him and backing him into a wall. 

“How long was I out?” Peter asked the room as soon as he was standing, leaning back in a long arch to stretch out his back and groaning when something popped into place pleasantly. 

Ugh. Why were walls so freaking hard?

No one said anything. In fact, they all just sort of stared at him silently, so Peter looked down to make sure he didn’t have anything on him. Other than a little bit of rubble that he brushed away, he was clean. A quick look at the corner of his vision confirmed that his mask was still on in place. Well, okay then? 

“Uh...?” Peter started, trailing off under the weight of so many eyes, his skin crawling. 

“Eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds,” Karen's voice responded inside his mask—though by the way Scarlet Witch jolted back and the shifting expressions across the other’s faces, she echoed the answer aloud as well—and he smiled thankfully.

“Thanks, Kare,” he said warmly, grinning even wider when she said she was just doing her job. 

“Did you nickname your suit’s AI?” Tony asked him incredulously, finally stepping forward and away from the weird formation the rest of the team were in as his eyes flicked up and down Peter's form with worry clearly etched onto his face. Peter rolled his shoulders back, finally able to stop supporting his right arm, although that didn’t seem to make Tony feel any better.

“Of course I did,” Peter rolled his eyes behind his mask and by Tony’s snort he totally knew what he was doing, “she's my friend!” Peter insisted, _once again,_ and knew that one day he would wear Tony down into admitting that AI’s were _totally_ friendable people that Peter was allowed to nickname.

“Pe— _Spider-Man,_ are you alright?” James asked from the side. 

Peter caught the slip-up right away, and the worry evident in his voice made Peter’s cheeks feel warm. They’d had such a lovely end to a rocky day after touring the city, and they’d texted or talked on the phone almost every day since. He really, really cared for James, and the slip-up was proof that he cared for Peter as well, even if he didn’t step forward like Tony had. That was okay, since when Peter finally looked at him he was holding himself tensely, his hands clenched in white-knuckled fists that Peter wanted to soothe.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Peter told him, darting his eyes over to Tony so it would be clear he was talking to the two of them. He rolled his shoulders again and grinned when everything felt a-okay. Neither Tony nor James looked convinced, and so Peter huffed out a breath and said, “Seriously, I’m all good.”

He looked around the room with growing worry, his eyes skipping over the rest of the Avengers even if their presence was making anxiety churn through his belly. Peter was _super_ uncomfortable, but even worse than the skin-crawly feeling was the uneasy weight settling low in his belly that was making him feel more and more wrong-footed. He absolutely hated that these people had seen him vulnerable and he hated _even more_ that he had been passed out in front of them. 

He didn't trust them. He didn’t feel safe around them. Just knowing he had been in such a vulnerable position for _eight minutes,_ having no idea when Tony and James had shown up, was making the hairs along his entire body stand on end nervously. Knowing that, at the very least, he _did_ have Tony and James with him now made him feel marginally better, but... it still felt like his skin was stretched too tightly across his bones. 

Taking a deep breath and doing his very best to push that feeling away, he scanned the group again, frowning deeply behind his mask when he realized there was a member missing and then feeling a pang of guilt that he hadn’t realized it sooner.

“Wait... where's Hulk?” Peter asked loudly, making sure that his voice carried even if he was unable to keep the mounting worry from echoing through his words. 

Before anyone else said anything, Captain America stepped up with his shoulders drawn back and his head held high, looking as self-assured and righteous as ever. When he spoke, his voice was so loud it rang through the training room and Peter had to lock his knees to keep from stepping back with the way his instincts were _screaming_ threat. “We had to sedate him,” Captain America finally answered, and his tone was filled with so much unquestionable authority that Peter wanted to punch him in the face. 

Peter frowned deeply, his heart starting to race as he imagined all the things that may have gone wrong after he was passed out. Had one of the others stepped in and somehow upset Hulk? Had they done something that caused him to get angry and lash out, or was he so upset that he just lashed out to begin with? Possibilities, each one worse than the last, ran through his head rapid-fire, and he sucked in a sharp breath before he forced himself to bite out the question, “Why the hell would you do that?”

“He threw you into a wall,” Scarlet Witch spoke up in a tone of voice that sounded very much like she was implying it was an obvious answer to a stupid question. When Peter actually looked at her, she had her hands on his hips and a look on her face that Peter sneered at. If there was any single Avenger that Peter disliked more than Captain America, well—Scarlet Witch... more like Scarlet Bitch, damn. 

“Yes? We were training together?” Peter told them uneasily, though his voice raised at the end, making it sound more like a question than the statement he’d wanted. Hadn’t they all stopped what they were doing to watch them train anyway? Why were they all looking at him in such confusion? “Why the heck did you sedate him for that?”

 _“What?”_ Captain America _demanded_ and Peter rolled his eyes at the commanding tone to his voice, wishing his mask would roll his eyes as well just so Peter could really express how annoyed he was.

Well, if Peter couldn’t show his annoyance via eye-rolling, he could at least _sound_ as annoyed as he felt, so he asked, “What, what?”

Captain America huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, looking just as disapproving as Peter wanted. “What do you _mean_ you and the Hulk were _training?”_

“Uh... we were training?” Peter repeated flatly, since _he_ thought it was a pretty simple concept for an entire group of superheroes to understand, but considering how they were all staring at him with the same incredulous expression, he wondered if he’d perhaps stuttered. Hm, maybe his voice was distorting his mask? Or maybe they _were_ just dumb? 

Someone scoffed and Captain America’s whole face looked... just really stupid, if Peter was being honest, and he crossed his own arms over his chest as he drew himself up, ready to go on the defensive if he needed to. 

“Wanna explain just why you were doing that?” Falcon asked him with a raised eyebrow and a look in his eyes as they tracked over Peter’s form that made him uneasy in a completely different way than the rest of the team.

Peter took a deep breath and kept his shoulders straight and chin up. He wasn’t going to let this group intimidate him, especially when he could easily handle most of them in a fight. “No one else was training with him. He was sitting alone and unlike with all of you, there's nothing here for Hulk to do himself,” Peter told them clearly, doing his best to keep the growing anger out of his voice as he quickly gestured to the huge room around them.

Silence rang out for several seconds before Captain America slowly said, “Training with him isn't safe,” over-enunciating in a way that made Peter want to punch him in the face. He may have been young, but he was every bit a superhero as the rest of them, and nothing bothered him more than the way they all talked down to him. 

“And why the heck not?” Peter demanded fiercely, something hot and protective curling up in his chest when he thought back to just how _happy_ Hulk had been chasing him around the training floor, picturing the huge smile that’d been on his face.

“He's dangerous,” Black Widow told him plainly, her voice dripping with a level of condescension that even _Captain_ hadn't reached before. Which... was actually as impressive as it was freaking annoying. 

Peter turned to her, his hands tightening into fists where they were tucked into his elbows, and when he spoke it was through a clenched jaw, “He's no more dangerous than any single one of you are.”

Black Widow looked at him in shock, though Peter wasn’t sure she’d ever had a genuine emotion in her life and rolled her eyes as she started to say, “That is not tru—”

“Oh really? Do you all think you’re harmless after all the shit you’ve done? He is _just_ as dangerous as the rest of you are!” Peter repeated, keeping his voice as clear as he could manage when he was all but shaking in anger. This wasn't something he was going to give on, not after he’d seen just what Hulk was capable of when he was given the chance. 

He _wasn’t_ what the others thought he was. 

But getting the others to see that was clearly going to take a little more work than Peter wanted, since Scarlet Witch sneered at him and spat, “He is unstable!”

Which... was actually super ironic, in Peter’s opinion, considering it was _her_ calling him unstable. Rolling his eyes, Peter let out a snort at the claim. Sure, he’d only had like two conversations with Hulk, but just from those two conversations, Peter was clearly able to see that Hulk was _way more_ than most people—including the Avengers—made him out to be. 

Peter had seen media coverage of Hulk enough times to know what the press said about him. But, Peter could already tell Hulk wasn't just some brainless, bloodthirsty monster who was good for smashing things and nothing else. That was just what he was reduced to. It was the box that Hulk was put in and never allowed out of, and it infuriated Peter, who could already see that Hulk had a fun, almost goofy personality and that he _cared_ for other people. He was so much more dynamic than _anyone_ gave him credit for, and Peter was able to figure that out in a total of two interactions... did the others really have no idea who Hulk was?

Clearly, they’d never taken the time to get to know him, if they really thought he was so dangerous and unstable. Heck, when Peter had first sat down beside him, Hulk had immediately asked Peter how he was doing after the last time they saw each other, which _clearly_ spoke for not only his intellect, but his capacity for empathy as well. _And,_ he’d done so verbally! Peter had to wonder if the group before him even knew that Hulk could speak, considering it took him some time to get warmed up. 

Did they ever even give him a chance? 

Hulk was... okay, maybe he wasn’t _smart_ smart, but he _definitely_ was not stupid. Not only had he almost perfectly understood Peter when he first got to the gym, but he had been able to follow Peter's directions as he chased Peter around, adapting what he was doing and the way he was chasing Peter until he eventually _did_ catch him. Hulk listened and he learned and he did better and better throughout their game of tag, and he... hell, he was actually kind of cute. 

Peter flushed warmly under his mask at the thought, telling himself _very_ firmly that he only meant “cute” in the most innocent, puppy-cute type of way and totally not believing himself. Cuteness aside, Hulk just _wasn't_ the mindless, destructive zombie the media painted him to be, and he wasn’t the horrible creature that the Avengers also seemed to think of him as. 

If Peter already knew that, how the hell did they not?

Taking a deep breath, Peter ground out a single word in response to Scarlet _Bitch’s_ unfounded accusation that Hulk was unstable, and asked a simple, “Why?”

“What do you mean, _why_ ?” she asked shrilly, looking visibly taken aback at the question and the possible insinuation that Hulk _wasn’t_ what they all assumed him to be. _Gosh,_ they were such assholes. 

Peter took a deep very breath and counted down in his head, trying his _very_ best to calm down. He looked at Tony and saw the same helpless anger he was feeling painted over his face. Peter understood why he was staying quiet and not saying anything; Peter wasn’t an official member of the Avengers which meant he could pretty much do and say whatever the hell he wanted, but Tony _was,_ and he had to maintain some semblance of peace. 

Seeing his own feelings reflected on Tony’s face helped to simmer some of the burning anger that was making him feel like he was going to explode. As he watched the Avengers watch him, it felt like his skin was wrapped too tight around his bones.

“Why is he so unstable?” Peter asked in the calmest tone of voice he could possibly muster. “What has he _ever_ done to make you think that, exactly? Destroy shit? That's all you ever ask of him!” Peter took a deep breath and regulated his tone, and when he spoke again he made sure he wasn’t yelling. “I had an _entire_ conversation with him before we started training together. He understood me and he definitely understood what was happening as we started training—something that he had _no_ other way of doing. Hell, he was actually improving before the _Captain_ interrupted us and shot my concentration! 

“Was there _any_ actual reason for you to sedate him? Or did you just somehow ignore the multiple minutes of tag you _all_ watched us play, the second things went south, and decide, with _no_ basis in logic, to sedate Hulk after he’d done nothing wrong?” Peter growled out the last sentence, anger rushing through him and causing a tremor to run through his entire body as he gestured sharply with his hands while he did his very best not to shout at them and kept his voice to a reasonable volume if his tone was laced with his rage. 

Captain America stepped forward righteously and started saying, “Of course there—”

“No,” James cut in firmly, his voice deep and commanding as he cut Captain America off. Peter cut his eyes over to him immediately and something about the anger laid out on his face calmed Peter down. He had both Tony and James in his corner and that... well, it was one more person than he’d ever had before, and that knowledge helped him to breathe deeply. 

James stepped forward, his shoulders squared and his jaw set and looking every bit the trained assassin he was, as he stated, “No. There was no reason to sedate him. Tony and I got into the room seconds after you were knocked through the air, and Hulk looked as distressed and I’d ever seen him. From what I’d been able to see ‘fore Steve made the order to sedate him, Hulk was all but pullin’ out his own damn hair and standin’ over ya.”

And that... that was too much. “Where is he?” Peter snapped as he vibrated with restless energy, his heart racing and his stomach churning and anger making his fists clench and unclench at his sides in a desperate bid to stop himself from lashing out.

“What do you think you're going to do?” Captain America asked in a voice that sounded like steel. Good thing Peter had super-strength and didn’t care one _fucking_ way. 

“Dr. Banner is currently in Mr. Stark's personal lab. He appears to be meditating,” F.R.I.D.A.Y announced over the training room’s speakers, loudly enough that her voice echoed through the room. The familiar tinny sound gave Peter something to focus on, but he still caught the disgusted look Captain America sent to Tony before Peter was turning away and striding quickly towards the elevator.

* * *

Peter didn't go straight to Tony's lab. He was _way_ too angry to go and see Dr. Banner, _especially_ if he was meditating. Peter sure wouldn’t have appreciated someone interrupting his zen with the amount of rage Peter was feeling, so while F.R.I.D.A.Y brought him to Tony’s personal floor, he headed for his bedroom instead of Tony’s lab. 

Even as he stalked through the silent halls, his hands shook at his sides, a fine tremor running across his entire body as he held himself taught. His anger was still burning white-hot under his skin and it felt like he was going to be split. He wanted to _hit_ something, a physical release for _everything_ that he was keeping inside, all the things he’d stopped himself from saying and doing because the Avengers _weren’t worth it._

Taking another deep breath that did nothing to calm him down _at all,_ he slammed into his bedroom—well, slammed into the bedroom _in spirit,_ because _no way_ was Peter slamming around doors that Tony gave him—and started pacing across the long length of the room, hands clenched tightly into fists at his sides and shaking uncontrollably. 

His strides were quick and heavy as he walked the length of his room before he turned sharply on his heel and crossed back over the ground he’d just covered. Peter’s mind was whirling angrily and his _whole body_ felt like it was drawn tight and ready to strike. His anxiety was still thrumming nervously in a way his senses saved only for the Avengers, always aware of just how big of a threat they all were to him, and he realized, suddenly, that he hadn’t felt that way about Hulk. 

There had been one moment when Hulk had made him nervous, when the big guy first lifted his hand, but after Peter had calmed down, he hadn’t felt anything too bad again. It hadn’t been _anything_ like the way Captain America or Scarlet Witch always made him feel, and he stopped in his tracks when that realization seemed to rush through him. 

“How can they be so ignorant?” Peter demanded of Karen, shaking his hands out when his fingers started to go numb by how tight his fists were. 

“I’m very sorry, Peter, but I would say your guess is as good as mine,” Karen told him calmly enough that it penetrated his swirling rage and he took a few deep, steadying breaths to try to get himself under control even though he still felt like he was going to shake out of his skin. 

It baffled him that out of such a diverse and varied group of people, it seemed like not a single person had ever bothered to take the time to get to know one of their own. How was it that the people who should know him the best just blindly treated Hulk as if he were some mindless creature? Had anyone other than Tony ever even talked to him? By what they’d been saying about him in the training room... he didn’t think so. 

If Peter could understand him after five minutes it definitely wasn't that hard. It had taken them a minute or two to work things out, but after there they’d been able to understand each other perfectly, so it wasn’t like there was some type of communication barrier there. Hulk was just as much a member of the Avengers as any of the others. Were he and Tony the only ones who bothered to look past the callous media portrayal of him as some sort of mindless and violent killing machine?

Did Hulk just mean so little to all of them that they had never even bothered to get to know him?

Peter tugged off his mask with a noise of frustration, running a hand over his face roughly. He was still agitated, but the rage had died down enough that he was no longer shaking where he stood. He felt his shoulders fall under the weight of all the unanswered questions he had, held down by the unfairness of it all. He couldn’t help but picture Hulk’s excited, joyous face as he chased Peter around. Peter could only imagine what Hulk had looked like after, especially considering what James had told him.

It just... it wasn’t fair. Peter knew it was that unfairness that was burning through his blood and making him feel so angry and unsteady, but he couldn’t help it. There was just something about seeing others get treated so poorly that made him angrier than anything else. Annoyance swirled under his skin knowing that a group of people that stood for so much “good” were the ones that were treating one of their own so poorly. 

“Dammit,” Peter said under his breath, scrubbing over his face as he tapped the centre of his chest to get his suit to release. “I hate them.”

“The feeling is, I believe, mutual,” Karen told him, a tinny voice from where he’d tossed his mask onto his bed. 

Feeling his body stoop, Peter did his best to clear his mind. Focusing on the rest of the team wasn’t making him feel any better and he knew that there wasn’t anything he could to improve the situation, so focusing on it was just going to bring him down even more. He took another deep breath and rolled his shoulders, letting his suit fall to the floor. If he couldn’t do anything about how the Avengers saw Hulk, he could at least clean himself up. 

His bedroom had an attached bathroom that was equally as luxurious as the bedroom itself. Every single time Peter used it after training or to clean up after working with Tony in the lab, a little thrill ran through his belly at just how amazing it was. At home with May, their bathroom had a toilet, a small little sink, and a shower big enough for one and one only. Peter’s _personal_ bathroom at the tower was literally as big as his bedroom—if not even bigger—and had not only a _walk-in shower_ that Peter was pretty sure would fit, like, four different people if he tried, it _also_ had a soaking tub, which Peter had yet to use but looked at longingly every single time he came into the room. 

Today, Peter went right to the shower, pushing down his briefs and stepping into the large, luxurious stall, shivering when his bare feet met cool marble. The water started up without Peter having to say anything. It was a little strange thinking that F.R.I.D.A.Y was _everywhere_ on Tony’s floor, but he did his best not to think about the fact that she knew he was in the shower and focused on being glad that she had his ideal temperature set to run automatically. 

Peter let out a soft sigh when the way steaming water cascaded down his back, tipping his head up to let the rainwater shower head run directly onto his face. Hot water ran over his skin and he did his best to let it carry the tension along his shoulders down the drain with it. He focused on breathing deeply, enjoying the way the bathroom almost smelt fresh and soothing. Peter was pretty sure there was something in the water, actually, and he washed away the grime from his body, he let that aroma calm him down even further. 

The steady beat of water against his skin was equally calming, and he focused on that sensation as his twirling mess of thoughts slowly slowed and flowed out of him with the last of his tension, until he was able to breathe easy. He had no idea how much time had passed by the time he finally stepped out through the glass door, but he was able to take a deep breath of steamed air as he reached for a towel and wrapped the fluffy, warmed material around his waist with another, happier sigh. 

Padding out into the bedroom, Peter made his way to his bed and grabbed the bag he’d dropped there earlier, pulling out his civilian clothes as he dried himself off. Peter knew that Tony would outfit him an entire wardrobe if he so much as even suspected that Peter would like that, but Peter was _more_ than okay with the worn, comfy clothes he had (and preferred). 

Peter pulled on the pair of briefs he’d brought him before he tugged up his track pants, reaching for his phone which had landed near the mountain of pillows someone kept on his bed. He replied to a text from May as he scratched his belly, patting it with a frown when it rumbled. Well... he had expanded a lot of energy playing tag with Hulk and he figured his healing had burned through even more so... 

Yeah, totally a good time for a snack. 

Peter replied to May again as he scarfed down another... few energy bars (the peanut butter ones were just _so_ good, it wasn’t his fault!) before shuffling back to the bed to grab the shirt he’d brought, pulling it over his head. He felt the last bit of his headache fade away when his healing kicked in, and he smiled easily down at his phone, rolling his eyes at May’s text-based-teasing about the “mysterious older man Peter was definitely not with”. 

Sure, James was in the Tower, but it wasn’t like he and Peter were hanging out. Which, actually, wasn’t a bad idea that Peter pondered as he finally left his bedroom, his suit still on the floor. It wasn’t like any of the Avengers actually had access to this floor and on the off chance anyone who didn’t know Peter’s identity _did_ get up here... well, Peter couldn’t actually imagine that anyone would be able to get up here in the first place, so he couldn’t really think of what would happen to them if they somehow did. 

Which was why Peter hadn’t bothered to put his mask on before leaving his room and was easily able to get down one more energy bar—assorted fruit, _yay_ —as he made the familiar route to Tony’s personal lab. He checked with F.R.I.D.A.Y as he went just to make sure Dr. Banner was still there, and after a confirmation that he was _and_ was no longer meditating, Peter stepped up to the thick, glass door that kept the workshop closed sealed off from the rest of the hall. 

The doors opened for him and he smiled up at the corner of the hallway where he knew one of F.R.I.D.A.Y’s sensors was bound to sit. Taking a hesitant step into the lab, the doors slid shut behind him and the lock engaged with a hiss of pressurized air as it sealed shut. It didn’t take long before spotting Dr. Banner, seeing as the whole lab was one big, open plain covered in tables and technology, a little “living” space tucked into the corner. 

That living space was where Peter found Dr. Banner, curled up on the very large and _very_ comfortable couch that Tony kept stashed in here for his “nights of excessive genius” that always ended with him crashing on the very couch. He was hunched over where he was sitting with his legs drawn up under him and focusing on a StarkPad so intently that he didn’t even seem to notice that Peter was there with him. 

Well, he didn’t want to disturb the man if he was busy, so Peter quietly made his way across the lab, wishing he’d put on socks since the floor in here was _much_ colder than the floor in the rest of the tower, seeing as it was a much tougher material to handle all the stuff Tony threw at it—sometimes _literally_ if something wasn’t going right. Cocking his head to the side, Peter took in the heavy frown that was marring Dr. Banner’s face. It was almost eerie looking at him now that he’d had time up close with Hulk, and just like he’d been able to easily note the similarities between Hulk and Dr. Banner when he was talking to the big guy, he was just as easily able to clock the similarities now. 

Hulk really was a blown-up, green version of Dr. Banner. Even now, the only real difference that he could spot was the sharpness of Hulk’s jaw (if Peter was being really honest with himself, as cute as he thought Hulk was, he liked that Dr. Banner was a little bit softer), now that Peter had Dr. Banner in front of him again, and the very tip of their noses. 

Huh. 

Even from where he was standing, still a few feet away, he could see the furrow of skin in between Dr. Banner’s eyebrows and felt his cheeks heating up at the sight, remembering just how endearing it had been on Hulk and finding it even _more_ endearing on Dr. Banner, even if he was a little worried about what the man was studying so intently. If it was Tony he would just interrupt him to ask. If it was James, he would quietly make his presence known by clearing his throat. If it were any of the other Avengers, he would have already walked away because the last thing he ever wanted to do was talk to any of them. 

But... Peter realized with a little bit of a start that he didn’t _know_ Dr. Banner. While Peter had admittedly strong opinions about the rest of the team, Dr. Banner—outside of how much Peter looked up to him for his strides in both Genetics and Biology and all his amazing research—he hadn't formed any sort of opinion on him. And... that was probably because Dr. Banner was never around when Peter was. _He_ was certainly never at the group training the odd time Peter was made to join and that was really the only reason that Peter ever interacted with the other members if it wasn’t out on the field. 

But Dr. Banner wasn’t ever out on the field, only Hulk was. And while Peter really liked Hulk, Dr. Banner could be a totally different story, even if Peter _did_ want to like him. After all, he had a whole list of things already going for him. Firstly, he was _super smart,_ so smart that even Tony respected his genius and had talked about the things the two of them had come up with a number of times. Secondly was the first that he was even _in_ Tony’s personal lab, a place that none of the Avengers were allowed on, since none of them were allowed on Tony’s _personal_ _floor_ to begin with. Just the fact that he had access to this floor was a plus in Peter’s books, considering it almost assuredly meant he’d never hurt Tony in any long-lasting, brutal way. 

And thirdly... well, Peter might have a _little_ bit of a crush on him, and he really didn’t want to hate him. There was definitely that. 

Before Peter could _keep_ pondering his crush on Dr. Banner, the man groaned loudly and suddenly enough that Peter made a noise of surprise, and then his eyes were snapping over in shock. They widened as they ran over Peter’s body. As soon as their eyes met, all of Peter’s initial worry for Hulk and Dr. Banner came rushing back at him full force—thankfully without any of the accompanying anger from earlier—and he hurried over until he was standing at the edge of the couch, wringing his hands together in front of him. 

“A-Are you alright?” Peter asked worriedly, tugging his lip between his teeth and wincing when his voice cracked. His heart was racing in his chest, wondering what had happened to Hulk after he’d been passed out and hoping against hope that he would be okay that he wouldn’t be too mad at Peter for getting him sedated in the first place. 

Outwardly Dr. Banner looked okay, but he didn’t answer Peter’s question and the silence between them stretched on uncomfortably. Peter watched his face closely, looking for any signs of pain or distress, anything that may have been caused by the fact that Peter had wanted to play tag with someone no one else wanted to give a chance. Just as Peter was trying to keep his anger down and stop himself from getting wiled back up, Dr. Banner’s eyebrows pulled down in an obvious show of confusion, making the little crease between his eyebrows stand out even stronger than it did on Hulk’s blown-up face. 

Biting even harder into his bottom lip, Peter did his best to stifle a laugh at just how familiar the expression was.

Finally, Dr. Banner’s mouth dropped open, which... considering he was sitting and Peter was still standing looked kind of obscene from the angle he was looking down at, and he had to very quickly avert his eyes as his cheeks went _super_ warm. Peter’s eyes dodged around the whole room before finally landing back on Dr. Banner’s face without anything else to focus on, and he saw that he was still mouthing at the air. 

Eventually he made noise, and when he did he asked, “Peter?” with confusion thickly threaded through his voice. 

Peter tilted his head to the side at the tone in Dr. Banner’s voice, but he quickly said, “Uh, yeah?” before he took a very deep breath and managed to rush out, “look... I'm r-really sorry I got the big guy in trouble. It totally wasn’t what I was trying to do at all, and if I knew Captain America was going to sedate him just for playing tag I would’ve just stopped and explained to them what I was doing from the start.”

Cutting himself off, Peter found that his blush got even darker after his little bought of rambling. His blush, which only got worse when he realized that Dr. Banner was staring at him and not saying anything. _Dammit_ , Peter swore to himself, _you were totally spazzy!_

“Excuse me?” Dr. Banner asked him, with the same edge of hopeless confusion that had been there when he’d been confirming Peter’s name. 

Well. Peter dived into another explanation. “It's just... I’m really sorry for the way the team all seemed to blame Hulk when it was really my fault in the first place. I was the one that went up to him to begin with! He was probably just being polite by letting me sit with him, but I _really_ hadn’t wanted to interact with the others very much. 

“Looking back now, I know that I totally should have warned them, or at least Tony, about what we were doing, I just really didn’t think it was that big of a deal! I mean, I _still_ don’t really think that it’s that big of a deal, since we were literally just playing tag together, but I am super sorry, _super_ sorry that they sedated him. Is he okay? They totally shouldn't have done that, he was doing so good!” Peter explained in a rush, taking a _huge_ gulp of air when he finally got everything out.

Then, he noticed the way that Dr. Banner was staring at him, and he dropped his eyes right down to the floor in shame, finding himself unable to meet Dr. Banner’s eyes after such an embarrassing ramble. Even more than that, though, was the way that talking him out had made him realize just how _horrible_ he felt for getting Hulk in trouble in the first place! He felt _ridiculous_ for doing something so foolish when all he would have needed to do was tell someone that they were training together but... Peter shouldn’t have _had_ to tell someone they were training together, right?

As far as Peter was concerned, they should have just left the two of them alone, and the anger he felt at the Avengers for reacting the way they did crept back up inside his chest until he felt a frown pull at his lips. 

Dr. Banner made a noise that drew Peter’s eyes up. His heart started racing when he saw that Dr. Banner was staring at him so intently that Peter almost felt like he was being studied, which... wasn’t really all that bad when it was Bruce Banner doing the studying. Peter's heart kicked up when Dr. Banner's eyes widened, his mouth dropping back open in a way that was still _very_ distracting, before he asked, “Wait... are you _Spider-Man?”_

Peter rocked back on his heels even as he nodded his head slowly, forcefully pulling his brain out of the gutter that it had fallen into and trying to get it to catch up with what was actually going on right in front of him. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and hummed. “You didn't know?” he finally asked, feeling his own eyebrows pull down in confusion. 

Dr. Banner shook his head adorably, looking very much like Hulk for a moment, and Peter watched, fascinated, as the man's cheeks turned a _very_ appealing shade of red that Peter found himself unable, or perhaps unwilling, to take his eyes from. Replaying the last few seconds, Peter realized the confusion must have been over why the heck Peter was apologizing to him, and the eyes widening must have been realization.

Wow. Alright. Peter guessed he could now add Dr. Banner to the list of people he’d accidentally revealed his identity to. _Dammit, Parker._

“Oh,” Peter mumbled after the silence had gone on so long it was _super_ uncomfortable. He blew out a breath from between pursed lips, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he stared down at Dr. Banner’s still flushed cheeks, gnawing on his bottom lip for another few seconds. “Well... uhm, yep? That’s me. You mean... Tony didn’t tell you that? _Of course_ Tony didn’t tell you, he would have never done that. I just figured that, well, since I was up here and you were up that you had to know who I was, since I’m usually pretty chill about my identity on Tony’s floor. Clearly. Since I’m not wearing my mask. Hah!” _Hah? Hah! Peter, get it the hell together!_ “Right, so... I, uh, just wanted to make sure that you were alright?”

Silence. Bone-chilling, _ringing_ silence as Dr. Banner stared at him and didn’t say anything at all, probably because Peter had totally freaked him out by being so... Peter-y. Dr. Banner was just _staring_ at him, and Peter kinda liked that Dr. Banner was staring so intently at him but he also didn’t really like it that much, since he had no idea if it was a good stare or a bad stare and if it was a bad stare, he definitely wouldn’t have liked it at all. 

But then Dr. Banner shook his head, which was totally freaking cute as shit, and he asked, “Are _you_ alright?” with a lot of feeling that caused Peter’s entire body to feel _super_ warm with the concern that he could hear in the man’s rumbling voice. 

He nodded quickly, breathless, doing his best to keep his arms flat by his sides instead of fiddling with his fingers like he wanted to. He knew that it was a nervous tick and _boy,_ was he nervous. “Yeah, I'm totally okay! I don’t even think that Hulk hit me that hard to begin with and my healing is pretty good, so I was only passed out for a few minutes,” Peter told him quickly, dropping his eyes back to the floor as he tried to think of something to say, feeling awkward just _standing_ there. “Look... I really am okay, and I—I just really, really wish that Hulk hadn't been sedated. Captain America really shouldn’t have done that... I’m just really sorry that you got sedated.”

Dr. Banner stared at him silently for a few rapid beats of Peter’s heart, before he explained, “What are you talking about? Hulk attacked you!” He nearly jumped from his seat as he waved the tablet still in his hand wildly about. “Peter, I’m thankful that Hulk was sedated. Who knows what he would have done after that?”

What else he would have done? Just as Peter was opening his mouth to ask what he was talking about, he managed to catch sight of the screen, and from the very brief glance he saw, it looked like Dr. Banner was watching footage of the training room, and that it was currently paused on a still of Hulk’s back. 

Huh. 

Peter felt his head fall to the side in a show of confusion, feeling even _more_ confused at the fact that Dr. Banner was watching their training session than at the vehement declaration it somehow been _Hulk’s_ fault that Peter had gotten hurt. “Dr. Banner... Hulk didn't attack me?”

Dr. Banner’s whole face seemed to fall into something that made Peter’s chest feel tight, and he finally let his fingers tangle together in front of him so he could run his index finger up and down the length of his thumb over and over again. Under the heavy look in Dr. Banner’s eyes, nervous fiddling seemed to win out. 

“I...” Dr. Banner trailed off, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly before he shook his head and stated, “Of course he did! I just watched the footage, Peter, and there is no way you can tell me he didn’t attack you.”

“No,” Peter started slowly, his heart hurting at the absolute certainty in Dr. Banner’s voice, as if there was nothing else he could possibly even imagine, as if Hulk _had_ to have been the one in the wrong. Was... did Dr. Banner feel the same way about Hulk as the rest of the Avengers? 

“No, Dr. Banner,” he finally continued, taking a deep breath and trying to brush down the same anger that’d been coursing through him earlier. “When I got to the training room, I saw that Hulk was sitting on his own off in the corner. I realized that there wasn’t anything for him to do, and that didn’t seem very fair, so I asked him if he would want to train with me! He was all for it, and since there isn’t anywhere in the tower for him to train alone, I felt really bad.”

“Of course there isn't a space for him!” Dr. Banner protested, his voice _much_ higher-pitched than it had been a moment ago. “Hulk is _dangerous,_ Peter! He threw you into a wall and knocked you unconscious!”

“We were training,” Peter reminded him. There was something wild in Dr. Banner's eyes, and it made Peter uncomfortable. Why was he so insistent that Hulk had been in the wrong when Peter was clearly telling him that wasn’t the case?

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to remain calm and push down any anger he may have felt at the man’s words, knowing that being upset wasn’t going to get him anywhere. “Hulk didn’t throw me into a wall, not in the way that you’re making it sound. We were training together, which was _my_ idea, and I was the one that asked him to train with me. We were basically playing tag and I was giving him pointers the entire time, trying to get him to focus. At first, he was just blindly chasing after me, but he was doing _so good_ by the time Captain America interrupted us. I _wanted_ him to hit me, and if the damn team hadn't _freaked out_ after they distracted me in the first place, I would have woken up and things would have been just fine and I could have talked to him and made sure he knew that I was proud of him!”

Dr. Banner shook his head back and forth slowly, as if he was trying to convince himself that what Peter was saying couldn’t be true. Did _everyone_ but Peter and Tony think that Hulk was some sort of crazed monster?! “That's not possible,” Dr. Banner said slowly, as if he was sounding out the words and shaping them carefully. Underneath it, though, there was something in his voice that Peter didn’t like, even if he didn’t know him all that well. 

Dr. Banner opened his mouth, closed it, and then slowly said, “There's... there's no way that all could have happened.”

“Dr. Banner, I had an _entire_ conversation with him before we even started training. He remembered me from the last time we’d seen each other and he asked me how I was doing, and then I asked him if he wanted to train. It... the video you were watching, was it the video feed from the training room?” Peter asked quickly, and when Dr. Banner nodded his head, he told him, “then that has to be on the video too. I swear!”

He knew that he sounded like he was pleading, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Heck, he _was_ pleading. Pleading for someone else to realize that Hulk was more than he’d ever been allowed to be. He really, really wanted Dr. Banner to believe him, for Hulk’s sake _and_ for Dr. Banner’s. Peter had no idea what it might possibly be like to have his body taken over by someone else—and if there was one thing he was absolutely certain of, it was that Hulk and Dr. Banner were _not_ the same person—but it had to be worse when you thought that the person taking over your body was some type of monster. 

It just... it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to Hulk, who’d looked like he was having so much fun chasing after Peter. And Peter had fun too, more fun than he’d ever had at a training session before, and he knew it was all because of Hulk. And... well, he was proud of what he and Hulk had accomplished together. Hulk had followed his pointers and he’d listened to the direction that Peter was giving to him, and by the end he was doing _so much_ better at keeping up with Peter than he’d been at the start. 

He just wanted to share that excitement with someone. He wanted to congratulate the Hulk, and instead, Hulk had been sedated all because the Avengers thought that he was dangerous. Because _Dr. Banner_ thought he was dangerous. 

Dr. Banner didn’t say anything. Instead, he slumped back into the couch with a really heavy sounding sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face. Peter didn’t know what to do, and he stood there quietly and watched as Dr. Banner did something on his StarkPad. Suddenly sound blared from the speakers, and Peter recognized his own high voice talking to Hulk, holding in an awkward cringe at hearing himself speak. He followed the conversation in his memory, recounting how Hulk had pointed at him and asked how he was doing in his own, non-verbal way. 

Peter smiled to himself as the conversation went on, letting his eyes closed and picturing Hulk’s happy face as he agreed to chase after Peter, biting into his bottom lip to hold in a laugh as heard the tinny recording of his own laugh echoed through the room, easily able to pull up the memory of Hulk’s happy, excited face behind his eyes. 

The sound ended abruptly and Peter blinked his eyes open only to see Dr. Banner was still sitting where he was, but now his eyes were closed and he looked tense. An apology was on the tip of his tongue but he bit it down, knowing that he hadn’t done anything wrong. Peter picked at his cuticles and chewed on his lip as he watched Dr. Banner silently, wondering just what the man was thinking about so heavily. 

“I'm sorry,” Dr. Banner finally told him with a long, deep exhale, running a hand down his face and scrubbing at his jaw. When he finally looked up at Peter, there was something about the heavy lines across his face that made him look older—no less attractive, Peter noted to himself with a bit of warmth settling over his cheeks—but certainly worn down. 

“There's nothing for you to be sorry about, Dr. Banner,” Peter said softly, reminding himself of the same thing as he quietly added, “Either of you.” 

Dr. Banner flinched back and Peter almost took it back, but he couldn’t. Hulk _hadn’t_ done anything wrong, no matter what anyone else thought, and Peter wasn’t going to let them all blame him for something he shouldn’t have been blamed for. 

Again, Dr. Banner didn’t say anything right away. Peter stood there awkwardly, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he tried to wrack his head for literally _anything_ he could say. Everything that he was thinking of was some sort of apology, though, all because guilt was sitting heavily in the back of his throat. Hulk had been sedated just because Peter had wanted to play a game of tag and had, foolishly, decided not to tell the others just because he didn’t like talking to them. 

Sure, Captain America had been the one to make the call, but would that have still happened if Peter had told him what he was doing before Hulk started chasing him? Digging his thumbnail into the other palm, Peter tried to force those thoughts away, knowing his guilt wouldn’t do anyone any good right now. Dr. Banner was still staring at the tablet in his hands like he couldn’t believe what he’d heard, and Peter tried his best not to let it bother him. He probably wouldn’t be too keen with Hulk if he was in Dr. Banner’s shoes, either, so he tried to focus on that and not that way he was just one more person who’d never given Hulk the chance to really show off who he was. 

Dr. Banner let out another long breath before he put the tablet to the side, looking up at Peter with something in his eyes that Peter couldn’t make sense of. It was a heavy look, and he felt his cheeks start to go warm as Dr. Banner stared at him and Peter stared... somewhere in his general direction, all while doing his absolute best not to make eye contact or do something else completely ridiculous like drop to his knees right there and then. 

“Thank you, Peter,” Dr. Banner told him sincerely, and then he chuckled, dropping his own eyes to the floor before he added, “Oh, and you can call me Bruce.” 

Peter felt his cheeks get even _warmer,_ and he knew that he _had_ to be blushing ridiculously. “R-Right, sorry,” Peter mumbled, dropping his eyes back to the floor.

Dr. Banner— _Bruce,_ which was making Peter feel all types of warm inside—cleared his throat before he asked, “So, you're Spider-Man?” which broke the tension that had built up between them. 

Peter nodded quickly, not quite trusting his voice when he kind of wanted to die and squeal all at once. He tried for a smile as he watched Bruce take a deep breath before he seemed to visibly shake off his mood before he looked back up. He motioned for Peter to take a seat on the couch beside him, and he had to remind himself to breathe before he started hyperventilating. “Is that... the other day when we passed each other in the hallway, I had no idea who you were. But you wanted to ask me something, right? Is... was it going to be something about being Spider-Man?”

Peter tilted his head to the side as he folded his hands together in his lap, trying to stop the nervous fiddling of his fingers even though he was _sitting right beside Dr. Bruce Banner oh my god_ —and he tried to remember that very, _very_ awkward first meeting without blushing too badly, even though he had totally made a fumbling fool out of himself.

Finally, he nodded, remembering what he’d been hoping to ask before Bruce had gotten all tense and left—which made a bit more sense now, knowing that Bruce probably thought Peter wanted to ask him something about Hulk (which really didn’t seem like his favourite topic). “Yeah! I was going to ask you if you might know anything about the sort of genetic mutation that caused... well, all of this.” Peter gestured down at himself with his hand, adding, “Tony is a genius, but his area of expertise isn’t genetics _or_ biology.”

Bruce chuckled, which was such a warm, _lovely_ sound that Peter almost whimpered.  
“That’s true,” Bruce agreed, the skin around his eyes crinkling with his smile. _Dear gosh, the lord is really testing me today._ “He’s a genius, but you’re right. Technology is really more his wheelhouse. Well... I’ll certainly try my very best to help with what I can. Do you mind if I ask how that came about? I don't know much more than what the public does, which is nothing. For all intents, Spider-Man cropped up out of nowhere.”

Peter settled more comfortably onto the couch, pulling his legs up and crossed them underneath himself as he got moved to settle back against the couch’s arm, facing Bruce head-on. He didn't look nearly as upset as he had earlier, and the thought that maybe, somehow, Peter had been the one to help him calm down brought a smile onto his face. “Uhm... it was a spider bite?”

“A spider bite?” Bruce repeated plainly, raising an incredulous eyebrow that made his disbelief _very_ evident. Peter snorted and then forcibly stopped himself from covering his mouth, doing his best to ignore just how embarrassing that noise was.

“Not just, like, a _regular_ spider!” Peter protested defensively, throwing out an arm to show just how irregular the spider had been. “Do you know who Dr. Curtis Connors is? He was a biologist that worked for Oscorp.”

Bruce made a harsh noise, something that sounded like it was somewhere between a snort and a snarl, and Peter bit down on a smile. He wasn’t that big of a fan, either. “I knew _of_ him, and that was more than enough.”

“Right,” Peter agreed, finally giving up the fight with his anxiety and tapping his fingers against his thigh in a quick beat, “well, a couple of years ago he was studying genetic mutations. I... I don't really understand most of it? To be totally honest it was... a little outside my area of expertise, and I was only ever privy to so much of what he was researching anyway. I never knew him, not personally, but I did get the chance to co-op at Oscorp during Sophomore year and I did my co-op for a team he ran. It was _really_ cool, and I got to watch awesome experiments sometimes even if I mostly just, like, swept stuff up and cleaned desks. Still, sometimes I'd walk around and look at all the cool stuff going on.

“I guess my clearance badge had... way more clearance than it should’ve? I never actually noticed that I was allowed into rooms I shouldn’t be in because I literally just walked into any room that it would let me walk into, ya know? But one day I forgot a textbook I really needed, and I had to get Aunt May to drive me, like, really late to go get it. Big buildings are a lot different at night. I don’t know if you’ve ever walked around Tony’s Tower, but it’s _weird,_ and I was just... a clumsy teenager, so it was kinda really scary, and I got a little lost. I guess I walked into a room I wasn't really supposed to be in? Like... _really_ not supposed to be in. I only found out that it was Dr. Connors’ stuff after, when I... uh, when I lost the co-op for trespassing?

“I don't really remember that night super well, because I got _super_ sick as soon as I got home, but I remember something biting my neck when I was leaving the office. It was this stinging pain that took forever to go away, but I was too creeped out about being in Oscorp at night to really care. _Anyway,_ when I got home I just thought I was getting the flu or something, because I was really nauseous and sweaty. And then the next morning... well, the next morning I woke up with superpowers.”

Peter finished his speech with a silly little shake of his shoulders. Bruce hadn't said anything during Peter's entire story, though he nodded along at all the appropriate times which made it a lot easy to tell him everything that’d happened that night, even when he didn’t really like thinking about it all that much. He tried for a smile that he was pretty sure fell flat, but Bruce reflected it with one of his own that made his heart race and had him wanting to squirm in ways he definitely shouldn't want to squirm.

“And you know for sure what it was that bit you?” Bruce asked, his tone polite as he leaned forward like he was really interested. That at least made Peter feel better, since _hopefully_ telling Bruce would lead to finally getting some answers about what it was that was going on with him. 

“Oh, yeah, it was definitely a spider. I didn’t know until the next day at school when I lost the internship, but that's the room I got in trouble for trespassing into, actually. Apparently it was a lab filled with genetically mutated spiders, ‘though I don't know much about _how_ they were mutated, which is what’s making it so hard. All I know about the whole thing is that I was _not_ supposed to be in there,” Peter trailed off with a huff, twirling his thumbs together in his lap as he dropped his eyes down his hands. 

He felt... it always made him feel like a fumbling idiot, not knowing anything about the way that his powers had come about. All he knew was that he had them, and that he’d gotten bit by something, and that something had most likely been a genetically mutated spider. And as curious as he was about where all the power he now had come from, there was just always too much going on to really look into it. Between school and hero-ing and just, like, _living,_ Peter had never been able to carve out the time he needed to look into what’d bitten him. 

The worst part about now knowing was that he was smart, he knew _that_ he was smart, but he didn’t think that he would be able to understand the sort of science that Dr. Connors had been known for, even if he was somehow able to get his hands on the information he needed. 

“That explains the how, but... there’s so little information about you and your abilities because you haven’t signed onto the Accords yet. What... what is it that you can _do?”_ Bruce asked him breathlessly, his voice was laced with... _something._ Something that sounded like a lot more than simple curiosity, something that sounded _interested_ in a way that made Peter want to tell him _everything,_ just to keep hearing that _something_ in his voice. 

“I'm really strong,” Peter told him quickly, definitely aware from his years of Hero-ing that that was what tended to surprise people the most when he showed up dressed in spandex and... not looking very intimidating at all.“I am, uh, _really_ strong?”

Bruce nodded before his own eyes dropped to his lap before flashing back up. “I saw you catch the Hulk's fist when we were battling Doom” Bruce admitted quietly, so close to a whisper that even if Peter didn’t _need_ to, he leaned in closer under the guise of hearing him better. 

But... “Uhm, what do you mean saw?”

Bruce was quiet for another moment. Which, really, Peter was actually starting to get used to the stretches of silence that Bruce really seemed to like. Peter didn’t mind—just because his brain was always going, like, _way too fast_ didn’t mean that everybody processed at what often felt like super-speed—and he kind of liked that Bruce seemed so thoughtful. That didn’t stop him from feeling bad for _once again_ making the man feel bad, since his shoulders were suddenly all tense again. Sure, he didn’t even understand what he’d done, but he still said something that Bruce didn’t like, which he just seemed to keep doing. 

Eventually, Bruce took a deep breath and shrugged his shoulders before he told Peter, “I, uh, tend to watch the footage back after the Hulk goes out on a mission, or when he’s up and about. That was why I was watching the training room recordings when you came in—I always check out what he does. ”

“So do you not... I’m sorry if this is too personal and you _totally_ don’t have to answer this if it’s like, way too personal, but do you not remember your time as Hulk?” Peter asked him softly, dropping into his own whisper as the atmosphere in the room dropped and it felt like he could barely take a full breath with the way Bruce’s whole face twisted up into something that made Peter’s heart ache. 

“No. I can't remember anything when he comes out.” Bruce's voice was once again flat of any emotion, sounding just as distant as he had when Peter had first come into the room. This time he couldn’t hold back the cringe, hating the way Bruce’s voice had dropped into the same low drawl that it seemed to drop into every time Peter said something to upset him. 

“We are not the same person,” Bruce all but spat, and Peter flinched back at the anger in his voice. Bruce sighed heavily, and then he said, “I’m sorry. To answer your question, no. I was watching back a recording of that fight when I saw the two of you interact, and I saw you stop his fist. That couldn’t have been an easy feat?”

“O-Oh, ah, no? No, it wasn’t. Hulk is like... _crazy_ freaking strong. I’ve definitely handled worse, but that was certainly not the funnest thing I've ever done,” Peter told him quietly even as he did his very best to sound as positive as he possibly could. As he looked up at Bruce from under his lashes and studied the haunted expression that was still on his face, he couldn’t stop his thoughts from whirling as Bruce talked more about his relationship—or lack thereof, really—with Hulk. 

By the looks of it, though, that wasn’t something that Bruce wanted to focus on, so after a moment he added, “So, uh, yeah, I’m strong. I'm also pretty fast, actually. I think one time with Tony I got up to a hundred miles an hour?”

Bruce whistled, which made Peter blush _really_ warm, before he raised his eyebrow and he asked, “And the wall climbing?”

“Oh! That one is actually another reason I’m totally sure I was bitten by a spider. I found it out totally by accident—my clothes kept getting stuck to my hand and I literally couldn’t get dressed for, like, an _hour_ that morning—so I started looking into it and I found out that it's a lot like how spiders do it,” Peter told him excitedly. 

He hadn’t ever had the chance to gush about his powers like this with anyone other than Ned, and he found that he was getting really excited to show off what he could do. It definitely helped that he was showing off to _Bruce Banner,_ someone he definitely had a _huge_ case of brainiac-love for and an even bigger crush on. With that in mind, he held up his hand with his palm facing the ceiling and flexed the same muscles he would when trying to stick to a wall. Just like he wanted, his palm erupted in what _looked_ like goosebumps but were actually a million different hairs opening up and expanding until his palm was completely covered in them. 

“I’m gonna be honest, I totally have no idea why the heck it works through gloves, but it always has,” Peter shrugged his shoulders, looking up to catch the way Bruce was staring at him like... well, like he was something worth looking at. 

Bruce made a low noise of something that sounded _a lot_ like interest and he leaned even closer, so close that Peter was certain he could feel his breath hitting his chin, and his hands came up to cradle Peter's gently. The simple, feather-light touch made his heart kick up into overtime as it started pounded so loudly behind his ribs he couldn’t imagine how Bruce didn’t hear it. His senses rushed by dizzyingly fast, catalogue every single thing about Bruce that he possibly could as time seemed to still. He breathed in the spicy scent of him, felt the way the callouses along his palms caught on Peter’s knuckles, memorized the speaks of gold around his iris, another physical attribute he had in common with Hulk. 

His heart was racing and his stomach was fluttering and Peter said absolutely nothing, terrified that he would somehow break the moment and silently allowing Bruce to do as he pleased. Doing as he pleased seemed to be _holding his hand,_ and Peter bit into his bottom lip to keep in a crazed giggle. Peter did his very best to relax, letting the setules that were standing erect all over his palm settle back and smooth out before flexing them again. 

“Could I study you?” Bruce whispered, sounding breathless and excited as he swayed even closer, his eyes peering up at Peter from under his lashes and causing heat to swirl around his belly. Peter was nodding his head rapidly before he even processed the question, so caught up in Bruce’s eyes and the colour on his cheeks and the desire to do anything he wanted. “I would love to take a look at your blood, see what I can find out about where your powers come from, if that would be alright?”

Peter's words were hardly more than a whisper when he spoke, unable to push out anything stronger than a soft exhalation of air over his heart racing up in his throat, pounding so loudly in his ears that he didn't even hear his own voice mutter a weak, “Yes, please.”

Peter felt himself leaning in, drawn in by Bruce’s gorgeous eyes and the way he was looking at Peter like he was something _amazing,_ but then Bruce slowly sat back with darkening blush staining his cheeks. He looked flushed and embarrassed and Peter could only _imagine_ what he would have looked like in comparison, with the way he was _aching_ with how badly he wanted to say something, _anything,_ to draw the moment out. Words got caught up in his throat as he mouthed at the air, speechless and overwhelming and finding that nothing seemed to be _enough_ to capture how he was feeling, how Bruce was _making_ him feel. 

After a moment of them staring at each other without saying anything, Peter figured that it was best to not even try, though that led him to start floundering for something to say to ease the tension that was once again heavy between them, even if _this_ tension felt a heck of a lot better than the tension from earlier, when Bruce had been upset. 

Suddenly, his phone started to buzz loudly and repeatedly from where he’d shoved it into his pocket, and Peter let out a gush of air as he painted a sheepish smile across his face, his heart still racing. It was a series of texts from James, all asking if he was alright, and he responded that he was _physically_ fine which led to even more quickly typed texts. 

“I'm really sorry,” Peter lied, keeping his eyes firmly on his phone so he wouldn’t have to meet Bruce’s eyes and get lost in them all over again as he texted out a series of _'oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit'_ rapidly. “I've really got to... uh, go but it... it was really nice talking to you, Dr. Bruce. I mean, Dr. Banner. Uh, no. Bruce, right?”

“Bruce is fine,” he told him again, and his voice held the same air of breathlessness as it had when he’d been looking at Peter's hands. He finally managed to look up, but there was something so intense in Bruce’s eyes he dropped his gaze right away, not sure if he was strong enough to meet it. 

“Okay, okay. Great! That’s so great. I'll see you later? For the blood taking? We can do that later, yeah?” Peter asked, his voice laced with insecurity even as he stood up and tripped over his own feet, righting himself quickly and then dropping his eyes to the ground under the guise of watching his feet.

“Yeah,” Bruce told him, and his voice sounded weak. Peter gulped and told himself he absolutely _could not_ march forward and climb into Bruce’s lap no matter how badly he wanted to and how badly it seemed like maybe Bruce would want him to as well. 

Peter backed out of the room quickly, eyes still down, and he threw out a stupid _wave_ and an even more stupid (and super awkward sounding) “See ya!” before he stumbled into the glass wall, making a high _eeping_ noise as he fumbled for the hand scanner that would let him out of the lab, throwing a _wave_ and an awkward “see ya” before he stumbled into the glass, before _finally_ getting the door open and falling out of the lab.

Only his enhanced balance kept him on his feet as he fell through the doors once they’d slid open, his heart hammering in his chest with mounting embarrassment even as something in his chest grew and grew until there was so much giddy pressure under his skin it felt like he was going to burst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so much fun to work on :D does anyone else have some shippy feels? Because I certainly do!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone who's been reading this since the beginning missed it, this story will now be updating every second week! Rewriting/Editing this is a crazy amount of work, and with starting a new school semester I just don't have the time for weekly uploads <3

Peter's phone buzzed annoyingly loudly—he was actually beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with the phone since he was pretty sure the vibration was  _ much _ louder than it should have been; one too many crash landing with his phone on him, maybe?—and he quickly stopped it from rattling around on his end table by snatching it up, pausing the YouTube video playing on his laptop by hitting the spacebar. He settled back onto his bottom bunk comfortably, wiggling around to get back into a prime position. His computer was beginning to slide off his lap from when he’d leaned over to get his phone and he quickly got it centred over his hips before bringing his attention to his phone, now in hand. 

He swiped his phone open even as he kept his eyes focused on his laptop, taking note of where he was in the video out of curiosity—Peter was watching videos of Spider-Man web-slinging through the city and analyzing his form—sparing a quick glance at his phone so he could open the message without worrying about tapping on anything else. He wasn’t overly worried about rushing to read the message, seeing as there were only a  _ very _ small handful of people who actually texted and, seeing how it was a Tuesday evening, he knew where they all were (and that they were all safe). 

When he finally pulled his eyes away from his laptop, he felt a smile tug at his lips as clicked into the text thread. 

_ From James (4:31pm): Free to chat? _

Peter couldn’t help but smile wider at the question. James was the only person that he’d ever met who didn’t like texting, though Peter figured that was pretty fair since the guy was from the forties  _ and _ only had one hand he could text with. Talking on the phone was, like, kinda super weird, but Peter didn’t mind it so much when he was talking to James, since he knew how much easier it was for him. 

Tapping the top of his screen to pull up James’ contact, Peter clicked on the icon that would start a phone call, smiling as he lifted his phone to his ear. It only rang once before James was picking up and mumbling a soft, “Hello.”

“Hello,” Peter chirped, answering in kind. He wiggled around his bed as he got himself comfortable, closing his StarkNote and placing it on the floor beside his bed so he could give James his full attention. 

Once Peter was comfortable and had stopped moving about so much, James cleared his throat gently. “How’re you?” he asked in a voice that was such a smooth timbre it had Peter relaxing into his bed with an even bigger smile. 

Being friends with James was really, really cool. Not only was he a totally awesome guy, but he was a superhero and he... well, there were  _ a lot _ of things that Peter couldn’t talk about with anyone else (not even Tony, who was like, really old) that he could talk about with James. Having a friend that he could wholly be himself with like he could with James was awesome. 

“I'm... alright,” Peter told him slowly, taking a moment to actually think about how he was doing before answering. 

From a few of the conversations they’d had together, it was really easy to tell that James had... a certain issue with being lied to. Peter totally understood it. He figured that if he’d been enslaved by an evil spy cooperation for seventy years, he’d be pretty uneasy with anything but the truth as well. It wasn’t like he  _ minded _ taking a second to really think about how he was doing instead of just answering flippantly. 

“Are you sure?” James asked him seriously, genuine worry in his voice and that made Peter smile a little softer. “I expected to see ya again after you went to check up on Bruce, but you never came back.”

Peter’s entire face went white-hot as he made an involuntary noise of  _ something _ in the back of his throat, ducking his head even though no one could see him. Oh  _ God, _ Peter had been doing a  _ very _ good job at not thinking about his... moment that might not have even been a moment and may have all been in Peter’s head the last few days and now, well, he was  _ certainly _ thinking about it now. 

“Oh gosh,” Peter said quietly, his heart kicking up and starting to beat wildly in his chest as embarrassment flooded him from head to toe. “Yes. I’m fine, I just, uh, went home?” The line was silent for a beat, and then Peter weakly added, “Uh... well I eventually went home?” 

James snorted, but thankfully he let it drop. It wasn’t that Peter  _ didn’t _ want to talk about his time with Bruce, it was just... well, no, he totally didn’t want to talk about his time with Bruce. After all, he hadn’t even really let himself  _ think _ about that afternoon or the moment that might not have even been a moment but he was honestly pretty sure it had been a moment and hadn’t _ just _ been in his head. 

“Sorry, I just... yeah, ya know?” Peter asked, not really sure what he was saying as he studiously did his best  _ not _ to think Bruce holding his hand or looking at him with wide,  _ gorgeous  _ eyes. 

James snorted and said, “Yeah, sure,” but his voice wasn’t anything but teasing and friendly, so Peter didn’t really mind. James never made fun of him like some of the kids at school did and all of his teasing was just that, actual teasing. 

Taking a deep breath, Peter forcefully shoved aside anything he was feeling that had to do with Peter so he could focus on his new friend. As much as they talked, Peter realized with a start that this was one of the only times that  _ James _ had been the one to initiate the conversation. And it wasn’t that James never talked to him, it was just that Peter was usually the one to text him first. 

So the fact that James texted him first  _ and _ asked to call him—which Peter was learning usually meant that James didn’t want to deal with the hassle of texting and that there were almost undoubtedly going to have a long conversation—meant that there was probably James wanted to talk about. 

So with the cheeriest voice he could manage and all of his thoughts focused on his friend and  _ nothing else, _ Peter asked, “Really, I'm alright. Now, why you can’t distract me so easily, mister. Why are you calling? Was it just to check up on me?”

There was a beat of silence that seemed to echo over the line. It was answer enough, and Peter chuckled under his breath with the way he could practically  _ hear  _ James' quiet guilt at  _ not _ calling to check up on Peter, though Peter really didn’t mind. After all, they’d talked that evening, when Peter had done his absolute very best to avoid  _ any _ mention of Bruce just like he was doing now, and it wasn’t like anything crazy had happened over the last two days. 

There was nothing for James to be sorry for, but Peter knew he really cared and would probably feel bad no matter what. He seriously had no idea how to tell him not to worry about him, though, so he stayed quiet and gave James his time, just like he sometimes needed. 

“I...” James started to speak, before he cut himself off with a rough noise. Peter made his own noise in response, something that he hoped was sympathetic. He heard James breathe roughly over the line and felt his heart give a little ache. Something was really bothering him. “It’s just that I... I needed to talk to someone. I feel like I'm goin' fuckin’ crazy holed up in this goddamn tower.”

By the time that he was finished speaking, he was breathing harshly. Peter made a sympathetic noise and quickly told him, “I'm so sorry,” and then took a second to think out how to answer that. As happy as he was that James was coming to him with his problems... Peter really sucked at advice. At a loss at what to say, he asked “So you don’t like living there? I really had no idea that you disliked it so much. You haven’t mentioned it before.”

James snorted and told him, “S'not that I don't like livin'  _ here,  _ as in livin’ in the tower, s'that I... I don't like livin' with Stevie all too much. Not anymore, anyway.”

Peter made another soft noise, just something so that James would know that Peter was listening to him. At a loss, he let another bought of silence ring between, partly to make sure James didn’t have anything else that he wanted to tell him and also so that he could have another minute to think about how the heck he was supposed to answer that. 

As much as he was surprised by the show of vulnerability on James’ part, he was mostly just really honoured by it. Yeah, they were friends, but he hadn’t realized that James thought of him as someone he could really  _ talk _ to until now. 

So, with a smile he felt a little bad for wearing but couldn’t fight down now that James seemed to care for him as much as Peter did, he asked, “So the problem is that you’re not happy living with Steve?”

James exhaled harshly and said, “I mean, I’m sure that I’d be a helluva lot happier if he wasn’t always fuckin’ around.” 

“Oh, James,” Peter said quietly before he asked, “Do you have your own space?”

“I don't got a lick of space that Stevie can't come into any time he wants,” James grumbled roughly, and Peter could imagine how deeply he was frowning just by the look on his face. “It’s always like... no matter where the hell I go, he's always _right fuckin’_ _there,_ always somehow in my business and tellin' me what to do and how to act and it makes me feel like I ain’t my own person. I fuckin’ hate it.” 

Peter listened attentively as James explained how he was feeling, realizing with a bit of a start that he had no idea how the other Avengers lived. Of course, he knew that most of them stayed in the tower full time—if only because of all the bitching Tony did about it and how much Peter absolutely hated them taking advantage of Tony’s generosity the way they did—but he had no idea  _ where  _ in the tower they stayed or how they lived. 

Aside from Tony, Peter really knew nothing about the team. Sure, there was the possibility of Peter getting to know Bruce, which was  _ very _ exciting and  _ very _ terrifying, but the rest of them... yeah, no, Peter didn’t know anything about them. After all Tony had his personal floor that Peter spent his time on, and he’d been on the training floor and a few of the floors open to Stark employees, but that was it. Other than those few floors, he had no idea what was inside the Tower.

Huh. He should probably ask Tony about that. 

But focusing on the Tower’s schematics was absolutely not what he needed to be doing, especially with the way he could hear James breathing heavily over the line. Taking a deep breath, Peter did his best to sound comforting as he hesitantly asked, “If he's bothering you that much, can you tell him?” 

Yeah. No, he definitely wasn’t very good at giving advice,  _ that _ was for sure. 

James scoffed like the idea was completely ridiculous. “You can't tell Stevie  _ shit _ no more. It's like he knows everything, all the fuckin’ time, like he's the smartest damn chap in the entire freakin' world,” James vented loudly. The phone shifted, and then he could hear what could only be James stomping around. “He wants me to be the same kid from Brooklyn and I'm not him anymore and nothin’ I fuckin’ say is getting that through his thick fuckin’ head!” 

James ended his rant with a growl. The tone in his voice hurt, stinging at Peter’s chest, and the defeated, broken tilt to his words made his heart ache for him. 

James was so amazing and he... he didn’t deserve the way  _ Steve _ was treating him. 

“I'm really sorry he does that,” Peter told him sincerely, feeling a bit lost and more than a little useless as he floundered for words that wouldn't come. Peter just hoped that being sympathetic was enough to help James feel better, since he didn’t seem to be able to offer any sort of advice.

“It’s just that... the way he’s always actin’ makes it seem like he don’t  _ wanna _ see me as someone else. He wants me to be the same Bucky Barnes that he lost in the war but I ain't that person no more. No matter what I try to say or whatever the hell I do, he don’t see me as anythin’ other than what he wants to see me as. And I ain’t the man I was in the forties. Hell, I barely even know who the hell I am now, but I sure as hell know I ain’t the Bucky Barnes he’s clingin’ to ‘n... he don’t wanna see the person I am now.”

“I’m really sorry,” Peter said, feeling stupid for just repeating himself when James was baring his soul. Awkwardly, he admitted, “I'm not great with advice,” feeling himself wince

"S'alright, Pete. I just wanted to talk to someone. There ain’t no one here I’m real close with, ‘n it felt like I was gonna go crazy if I didn’t get all of that off my chest. “ James told him heavily, sounding unbelievably tired. Peter wanted to reach through the phone and give the man a damn hug, and he felt bad that he couldn't. The more James was telling him, the more it didn’t really sound like he had any other friends which...

Well, James was  _ awesome!  _

_ “ _ You can always talk to me,” Peter was quick to reassure him, pushing as much honesty into his voice as he could. James already meant so much to him, even if they hadn’t been friends for that long, and Peter was always there for the people he loved. “Seriously, no matter what or when it is, you can always come to me if you’re feeling upset or if you need someone to talk to. I’m always going to be a text of a phone call away, okay?”

Peter bit into his bottom lip as he waited for James to answer. He knew that sometimes he could come on a bit strong. He knew that it could be off-putting, sometimes, with the way he latched on. It didn’t happen often, but when he did he rarely let those people go and he knew that James was now one of his people. 

He just hoped that James wouldn't be. 

“Thanks, Peter,” he finally told him, letting out a long breath that  _ “whooshed” _ through the speakers. “Really, thanks for listenin’ to me. It's just... it can be real frustratin'.”

“I bet,” Peter chirped, wondering how much he could hate a national superhero. “What if... what if I talked to Tony? Maybe I could ask him about setting something up for you, something that you can do that is independent of Steve and—and the rest of your past? I don’t really know a lot about your different hobbies but, like, having something that’s just yours could be really good! If nothing else, it would give you a reason to have time away from Steve?”

James let out a shuddering breath that Peter tugged goosebumps up over Peter’s skin and caused his heart to twinge. If just the idea of being away from Steve made James sound like that? Well, Peter was absolutely determined to not only  _ talk _ with Tony, but make sure he agreed with Peter’s totally awesome plans for James’ independence. 

Peter was shocked out of his plotting when James cleared his throat, and he focused back on the phone in time to hear James thickly say, “That sounds real fuckin’ good, actually.”

“I'll do it the next time I see him then,” Peter told him happily, feeling much better than he had only minutes ago since he now had a plan for making James feel better. 

James let out a little laugh and then said, “Sorry I was such a downer.”

Peter made a noise of disagreement, telling him, “I totally don't mind, James, really. We’re friends, and I’m more than happy to listen to my friends when they need to talk, okay?” 

James made an agreeing noise before they both fell silent. Peter wasn’t sure what else he could say without sounding, like, way too weird, so he kept quiet and listened to James breathe while they sat on the line together. It wasn’t that weird since James wasn’t saying either but, from the volume of his breath, hadn’t moved away from the phone either. 

It... was actually really comforting. Sometimes Peter felt lonely, when he was hanging out at home and May was at work. It wasn’t all that often he was home alone, and now that he was, it was way nicer than Peter could have thought to just sit with his phone pressed to his ear, knowing that James was on the other line. It kinda felt like he did when he and Ned sat together and did separate things; they were still together and they were still spending time with each other, even if they weren't interacting.

A few minutes later James took a deep breath, and then in a much lighter voice, he asked, “Alright, ‘nough ‘bout me. You can’t put it off forever, Pete. How'd things go with Banner the other day?”

Peter choked on his saliva and then blushed,  _ violently, _ feeling his  _ entire _ face going warm as he spluttered uselessly. “W-what do you  _ mean _ ?” he squeaked,  _ several _ octaves higher than his normal speaking voice. 

James snorted at him.  _ Rude!  _ “Well, you seemed pretty damn pissed when you stormed outta the trainin’ room as soon as Friday told you where Bruce was. Don’t take a scientist to figure out that you went to talk to him,  _ and then _ you didn’t even come see me ‘fore you went on home. I was figurin’ that things must’ve gone pretty damn well, ‘specially since you haven’t said a peep ‘bout it since,” James explained with a teasing smile evident in his voice. 

Peter felt his face get even darker. Oh goodness, he could just imagine how red his cheeks had to be. Making a noise from somewhere in the back of his throat, his heart started racing as he thought about Saturday for the first time in any real detail, seeing as he hadn’t been letting himself think about it  _ at all. _ His heart was already racing with embarrassment, but he started wiggling his legs as the memory of Bruce’s hands under his and how  _ close _ they’d been. 

“It was fine!” Peter squeaked and then cleared his throat twice before adding, “Yeah. Yeah, it was totally fine! I, uhm, actually I didn’t go right to him, I showered first to calm down.”

“Showered? Where?”

“I have a room at the tower,” Peter told him, then rolled onto his side and lodged his phone between his pillow and his ear while he did his best to stop squirming. 

“Wait, you got a room? Where the hell’d you get that? And where is it?” James asked him incredulously, sounding a lot more confused than what Peter thought the question called for. “All of us got rooms on the same floor, ‘cept for Bruce and Tony.”

Well, that definitely explained the confusion  _ and _ where all of the Avengers lived. Huh, it kinda made sense that they were all on their own floor. At least that was Tony would be able to keep track of all of them at once. “I have a room on Tony's personal floor, actually.”

“Huh,” James mumbled quietly, then asked, “So what happened after that, seein’ as you didn’t come back?”

Oh, there was Peter’s blush, ramping right back up to full force. “Uhm... I went to see him? I had to shower to calm down ‘cause I was so angry at the way the others were talking about Hulk, but I was also really, really worried about him after Hulk had been sedated. I went to make sure that he was okay,” Peter admitted, gnawing on his bottom lip as he tried to get his thoughts in order. “But... Bruce was fine? I guess. I don’t actually know if that means Hulk was okay too, though. I... uh, I forgot to ask.”

“Forgot to ask, huh Pete? There sounds like there’s a story there,” James teased with a laugh. 

“Ngh,” Peter groaned, shoving his head against his pillow. 

“Hey, come on, I’m just kiddin’. “I'm sure he's good, Hulk’s a pretty big fella, after all. Banner was okay?”

“I mean... he seemed okay? After we talked a bit, actually. ‘Cause at first he was pretty upset that Hulk had attacked me, which didn’t even happen and it... well, it actually took me a lot to convince him that Hulk  _ didn’t  _ attack me and I’m not even totally sure that he did believe me. Oh! And he didn't know that I was Spider-Man, which, okay, hindsight! I guess I should have realized that there was no way he would’ve known but I thought he would have figured it out the other day when we ran into each other,” Peter told him in a rush, taking a deep breath before he summarized his rambling with, “But... I mean all in all he seemed okay. A bit confused, at first, but we got everything cleared up and then he was super nice.”

Peter still wasn’t totally sure how he felt about Bruce knowing. It was one thing to think that the man had figured it out on his own after they’d run into each other—since, like, how many teenagers was Tony going to invite to his personal floor?—but it was another thing altogether to actually admit it to someone. Ned had found out by accident, Tony had found out... well actually, he probably found out in ways that were totally illegal, but Peter hadn’t really had to confirm it. 

Ned had seen him taking off the suit. Tony had pulled  _ down _ the suit. He... thinking about it, he actually was the one to  _ tell _ Bruce, since he hadn’t found out by accident or illegal means like Ned and Tony had. And that... well, that was certainly different. It wasn’t something he’d ever thought he’d do—or at least, not till he was _ at least _ in, like, college or something and told the press or signed the Accords, which he was pretty sure meant he’d have to give up his secret identity. 

It made him feel wrong-footed, knowing that he’d actually revealed his identity to someone even if it  _ had _ technically been an accident. The strangest part of it all as just that someone else knew. For so long, it’d only been Ned and Peter, seeing as they found out pretty close together. He figured that MJ had a suspicion, but she’d never  _ declared _ anything, so that was just a hunch that mostly existed ‘cause MJ kinda knew  _ everything _ . 

Having Bruce know was weird. It almost felt like he’d given Bruce some sort of power over him that he’d never meant to give, but... he didn’t think he really minded, not all that much anyway.

Before he could think any more about Bruce having power over him—Jesus Christ Peter junior,  _ calm down _ —James cleared his throat, which thankfully jolted Peter enough he was able to  _ stop _ thinking totally inappropriate thoughts about a scientist he hardly knew and had a moment that might not have even been a moment with. 

“Wait, how'd you run into Banner? He's never around the communal spaces since he’s got a floor of his own that he hangs out in.”

“He was on Tony's floor,” Peter told him, shifting onto his other side as he ignored any leftover bodily signs of interest related to thoughts of Bruce as he stifled a yawn. “I work with Tony in the lab after school some days, and I was on my way there when we literally ran into each other.”

“Yeah? How'd that go, then? He usually ain't too talkative with any of us,” James asked, and Peter latched onto the distraction to forcefully  _ stop  _ thinking about the moment  _ that might not have been a moment  _ they’d shared.

“God, it was so embarrassing,” Peter told him, remembering just how awkward he had been the first time they met. Yes, good. That was  _ much _ safer territory. There was nothing arousing about making a fool of himself, that was for sure. “James I was literally  _ so  _ star-struck. It was like I literally couldn't even form a coherent thought because all I could think about was how much I loved him and how much I look up to him and how  _ smart _ he is and all the amazing articles I’ve read from him!”

“Is that so?” James asked in a tone of voice that sounded  _ way _ too interested. Oh God, he’d totally rambled. 

“I mean, like, he was nice,” Peter said in his  _ very _ best convincing tone, sounding as flippant as he possibly could even though he was pretty sure it was too late to save any sense of pride. 

_ “Nice, _ huh?” James asked in the most ridiculous tone of voice Peter had  _ ever _ heard. Yeah... definitely too late to preserve any sort of pride. 

“Yeah. He was... he was really nice,” Peter repeated, forcing himself to stick with it even as he started squirming in embarrassment all over again. 

Having a gigantic crush on Bruce Banner was one thing. Telling James about that gigantic crush was another, infinitely more embarrassing thing. 

James laughed at him, which was very rude, thank you very much, and asked “What about Saturday, huh? Was he just as  _ nice _ when you went to comfort him?”

“Mhm,” Peter mumbled, taking a deep breath and shoving his face against his pillow before he muffled out, “He was, uh,  _ very _ nice, actually.”

“Ah, so he was  _ just _ nice?” Peter could hear the no-doubt teasing smile in James’ voice even if he did his very best to ignore it. He knew James wasn’t being malicious, only teasing. 

“Just nice.” Bruce certainly  _ had _ been nice, with the way that he had looked at Peter and the interested gleam that had been in his eyes when he held his hand and asked if he could take his blood. God, that  _ had _ to have been a moment, right? People didn’t just ask to take other people’s blood while looking at them like... well, how Bruce had looked at him. “He. Uh. He... yeah.”

_ “Yeah?” _

“Jeez, are you gonna make me say it?” Peter mumbled under his breath, hiding his face even further in his pillow even though James couldn't see him. 

“It was really good,” he admitted quietly. “Uhm... I really like him,” Peter whispered, to which James let out a snort that Peter chose to ignore, “and he got really excited when I told him about my powers. He wanted all about how I’d gotten them and how they worked, which was kinda fun to talk about. He... he even asked if he could take my blood, to, ya know, to study it? I guess?”

“Huh, that’s some strange flirtin’,” James said, and Peter hummed. 

It  _ was _ strange, but he really wasn’t sure if it was flirting. He  _ wanted  _ _ it _ to be, especially with the way he didn’t seem to be able to forget the way that Bruce had looked at him: cheeks flushed and eyes filled with excitement as he gazed at Peter like he was the only thing in the whole room, an image that was seared into his mind and made him completely breathless to think about.

“I mean... yeah, maybe it was kinda strange,” Peter admitted, rolling onto his stomach and resting his forehead on his mattress. “Even if it was a little strange, I don't really mind.” Peter didn’t say anything about how it may or may not have been flirting—if James thought it was... well, Peter was just going to let him keep thinking that. 

“Actually, I think that it could be kind of cool! I don't really know anything about my powers, and this might give me some answers, ya know? I know I got bit by some type of spider, but that’s really all. If anyone could figure it out, it would definitely be Bruce. He's so smart, especially in genetics, and there really isn’t anyone else as qualified as him! And, he wants to do it! Well, he wants to do it now that he knows that’s what I was going to ask him. Isn't that awesome?”

“Oh, definitely,” James teased, but it was soft, almost fond. Peter grinned widely. 

“Don't make fun of me, he's super hot,” Peter defended uselessly. James already knew he had a crush, might as well run with it. 

James laughed, but it still wasn’t anything but teasing. “Isn't he a little old for you?”

Peter groaned loudly, ignoring how warm he felt  _ everywhere. _ The fact that he was older was... well, it certainly wasn't something that upset Peter. It was... nope, it definitely wasn’t a detractor, and that was  _ not _ something that Peter was going to think about right now. “S'not like it matters, anyway. There's no way something would ever happen.”

“Eh, you never know,” James said, and Peter tried to believe him. Being with Bruce wasn’t even something that Peter considered  _ remotely _ possible, despite how much he wanted it to happen. 

He shrugged even though James couldn't see him, holding his phone tighter against his ear as they breathed together for a few more quiet minutes. The fact that they could do this and Peter didn’t feel awkward at all meant more to him than he’d ever know how to say. 

“Enough about me,” Peter finally said with a pout, “are you feeling any better than were when you called?”

“Yeah, Pete,” James assured him, and the nickname made him feel warm every time James used it. “Thank you for distracting me with your giant crush on Bruce.”

“Hey!” Peter cried in mock outrage, if only to hear James laugh again. He took a deep breath to James’ deep chuckling before bracing himself to ask a question he'd been thinking about for days. “Would you... you know, you could always hang out with me and Ned, if you wanted to? I know you said that you didn't really like new people, but Ned is barely a person! Not—not, in like, a bad way, or anything, he's just really non-threatening! And he's  _ super _ fun. Actually, I think you guys would probably get along really well, and I know he’d love to meet you. 

So... maybe the next time Steve’s bothering, you could come hang out with us?”

James didn’t say anything for so long that Peter was opening his mouth to take it all back when he quietly told him, “I can try.”

It was  _ way _ more than Peter had been hoping for, and a giant grin broke out over his face when he made a ridiculously excited noise. He shoved his smile into his mattress as he pushed away thoughts of Bruce and his flushed cheeks and large, green hands holding him gently, and started talking about all the things he and Ned liked to do together in an attempt to sell his hanging out idea.

* * *

Peter stared down at his notebook feeling completely lost and wondering, not for the first time, if his English teacher even knew what she was doing. Peter had never seen any proof of a teaching degree, after all. Maybe she was a supervillain in disguise as his English teacher? Crazier things had certainly freaking happened. After all, the work question they were supposed to be working through made literally  _ no sense _ and Peter stared at it until the letters began to blur on the page. Nope, didn’t make any more sense like this, either. 

_ Dear god,  _ senior year was literally killing him. Peter should have known that it never would have been being Spider-Man that called him, but rather the atrocity that was high school English. Groaning dramatically and earning himself a snicker from Ned, who was sat opposite of him in Ned’s bedroom, Peter let his head flop against his open novel as he breathed in the scent of old, inked pages and a fair bit of dust, wrinkling his nose in disgust. 

Work kept piling up. Schoolwork, work he was doing with Tony in the lab. With everything piling together, Peter was finding that he was having a harder and harder time getting all done while ensuring that he still went out for patrol each night,  _ and _ that he left early enough in the evening for it to actually be worthwhile. There just didn’t seem to be a break in sight, despite there only being a handful of months left in the school year. 

He was pretty sure that he just needed a bit of a break, a chance to catch up on everything, but... well, it wasn’t like he could take a break from his schoolwork, and the work that he was doing with Tony was work that would  _ help people, _ so Peter wasn’t willing to slack off there. Peter told himself,  _ again, _ that taking a single, planned night off to catch up on his schoolwork  _ wasn’t _ slacking off, despite it feeling that way. 

Tonight had been something he’d planned for weeks. It was just supposed to be a night with Ned where Peter wasn’t going to do  _ anything _ other than study and catch up on his endless pile of assignments and assigned reading—seriously, why the heck did Midtown assign so much work during their final semester? It was a night when Peter wasn’t going to think about  _ any _ of the unfinished projects sitting around and waiting for him in Tony’s lab (which were seriously all a thousand times more important  _ and _ more interesting than his high school English homework). 

He wasn’t going to think about patrolling, either, or how badly he should be outside, making sure that the streets were kept safe. Seeing as it wasn’t even early enough for him to be going out on patrol yet that one wasn’t too tricky, but he knew that the later it got the harder it was going to be to stay inside—which was why he was spending the night at Ned’s since he knew his friend would hold him accountable to actually staying inside and not going out. 

No. Tonight was for school and nothing but school. Peter needed to focus on graduating high school, since he really couldn’t afford to fall behind any more than he already was (which, really, wasn’t  _ that _ bad, but was still bad enough that he thought about it nigh constantly). After all, he’d already been accepted into a number of schools, all of his own merit—he knew that he could have used Tony’s name to get into  _ anywhere _ he wanted, but... as he’d told Tony when the older man had brought it up, he wanted to get into schools for his own work. 

And he  _ had, _ surprisingly enough. He’d gotten into not one, not two, but  _ all _ of the schools that he had applied for and... well some of them were really prestigious. Heck, some of them were  _ dream _ schools, and it had all been because of his own hard work and his own achievements. And, like Tony had said, it wasn’t like he  _ didn’t _ work hard at his internship. But he  _ did _ only have it because he was Spider-Man, which Tony had even reluctantly admitted, and it just didn’t seem fair to use that to his advantage.  _ Peter Parker _ had gotten into his dream schools, and that... well it felt really, really amazing. 

Which was why he knew that if he let himself fall behind now, he could be losing a chance at the future he’d been working towards for the last three and a half years. No matter what, save the literal end of the world, would he let that happen. 

And so, even though it sometimes felt like he had so much going on that he was drowning in it all, he was going to stay on top of his schoolwork no matter what else he had going on. He had to, after working so hard for so long. With that final thought, he focused back on his textbook, trying to pay attention to his notebook beside him or the novel in his hand and finding his eyes ping-ponging back and forth uselessly because daydreaming or not, the work still made no freaking sense. 

With a rather dramatic (and fairly) pathetic groan, Peter dropped his head back down to where his text was sitting in his lap and groaned again. “What are we even doing?” Peter asked, thunking his head against his textbook  _ again _ for emphasis. “This is  _ impossible. _ I'm going to fail!”

“Peter, you're not going to fail,” Ned told him flatly, and Peter flopped backwards and star fished out on the ground. 

He lifted his head just enough to give Ned the most annoyed expression he could muster given the circumstances. “Dude, you don't  _ know _ that! English is my worst subject and I really have to pull my mark up,” Peter whined, dropping his head back against the floor. The hardwood floor was cool against the back of his neck and Peter felt a huge yawn split across his face. 

Ned laughed at him, because he was the worst best friend in the world who liked seeing Peter suffer unreasonably, “Why don't we take a snack break?” he suggested. Alright, maybe he wasn’t totally the worst friend in the world. Then he kicked Peter’s ankle from his spot on his bed, and Peter looked up at him with a pout. Thankfully Ned spoke fluent Peter Parker, seeing as he rolled his eyes and said, “I'll go grab us something, lazy ass.”

Peter thanked him with a shout, drawing his limbs in then spreading them back out, making a little snow angel on Ned’s floor. Mid-yawn his phone pinged with an incoming text and he groaned once again, pushing his bum against the floor and feeling the length of his phone in his back pocket. He wiggled to get it out, pushing his hips up so he could grab his phone and bring it up to his face. 

Not bothering to look at the notification, Peter swiped his phone open and then promptly burst out laughing when the message content was a  _ meme _ from James. Peter had no idea when the  _ Winter Soldier _ had time to learn about  _ memes,  _ but James was a  _ big _ fan. Peter kept laughing as he read the text post through a second time, bringing his other arm so he could lazily text out a reply.

“What's so funny?” Ned asked, coming into the room with a litre of pop and two bags of chips. Peter sat up excitedly when he spotted his favourite flavour of Doritos and wiggled where he was sitting, though he tapped out a quick reply to James' question of how he was doing before he grabbed the bag.

“Oh, it's just James,” Peter told him, letting James know that he would text or call him later depending on how late he stayed up working before sliding his phone into his front pocket. He ripped open his chips and with a smile still on his face, wondering how he managed to snag two of the most awesomest friends ever. 

“Who?” Ned asked, plopping back onto the bed with a curious frown on his face—which was a pretty understandable expression considering the fact that they basically had the same circle of friends, which was one another. 

Peter hummed around his mouthful of crunchy, barbecue-y goodness before he swallowed down a gulp of Sprite from the bottle Ned had thankfully sat on the ground beside him and asked, “Oh, uh, did I not tell you about James?”

Ned shook his head with an even  _ more _ confused frown, leaning forward and holding out his hand for the pop. Peter passed it to him and felt a smirk curl around his lips as he waited for Ned to take a sip before he told him, “The other weekend I hung out with the Winter Soldier.”

Ned choked on the very big sip he’d taken, spraying Sprite out of his mouth and coughing aggressively enough that it actually looked a little painful while Peter laughed. He pounded on his chest and, still laughing, Peter was about to get up and make sure he was actually okay and not, like,  _ dying _ when he finally pulled in a full breath of air. 

When Ned looked back at him, his cheeks were flushed a ruddy pink and his eyes were watering. Peter laughed again. _ “You hung out with who?” _

Laugh dying into more of a nervous chuckle, Peter said “Uh, yeah?” as he tilted his head to the side. 

It wasn’t like he’d kept it from Ned on purpose, he just hadn’t thought to mention it. Ned’s guild had been having a get-together-party-thing, so he hadn’t been able to hang out that Saturday anyway. By the way Ned was gaping at him in what could only be described as pure, unabashed shock, one would think that Peter  _ didn’t _ hang out with superheroes on a fairly regular basis. 

Actually, with the way that Ned was staring at him, you would think  _ Peter _ wasn’t a superhero  _ himself.  _ “Jeez, okay, don’t look so starstruck, dude. You’re gonna bruise my ego,” Peter teased, adding, “but yeah, he followed me home after that fight with Doctor Doom, remember? I gave him my number ‘cause he seemed kinda lonely and we actually became pretty good friends.”

_ “You became friends with the Winter Soldier,”  _ Ned repeated in a voice  _ several _ octaves about his normal speaking voice, and Peter pouted at him. 

“Hey! Try not to sound so shocked, okay?” Peter bit out, taking another bit of chips with a heavier pout. 

“Sorry... sorry I just  _ love _ him!” Ned gushed, smiling so wide Peter was almost a little unnerved. “You  _ know _ he was my favourite Howling Commando!”

“Well yeah but...”

“You’re still my favourite superhero, dude, don’t even question that. I just...  _ the Winter Soldier!”  _ Ned literally squealed, not doing very good at sounding apologetic even though Peter knew that’s what the first part of the statement was meant as. “And you’re on a first-name basis with him, that’s sick!” 

“I mean it’s pretty cool,” Peter admitted, ‘cause he couldn’t even pretend that James wasn't totally awesome. Besides, Peter couldn’t keep his pout up under the force of Ned’s endless enthusiasm, feeling a smile slowly tug at his face as he asked, “Would you wanna meet him sometime? Maybe we could all hang out?”

“Oh, well, just let me think about that,” Ned said, tilting his head this way and that before he shot Peter a blank stare before exclaiming, “Dude, do I want to  _ hang out with the Winter Soldier?  _ Of course I do!”

Peter winced at the volume of Ned's voice, swaying back a little where he was sitting as his ears rang for a moment. One of the best parts of his suit was the way the mask moderated noise for him, and ever since Tony had built it in Peter’d been forgetting to make sure he was moderating his  _ own _ hearing. 

Ned grimaced and apologized, stuttering as he said, “Sorry, dude. I-I’m just... well I'm a bit of a fan.”

The ruddy flush that had been staining Ned’s cheeks ever since his choking incident got even darker, and Peter felt a smirk tug at his lips. “Well, I’ll definitely ask if he wants to hang out, in that case.” 

“That would be  _ seriously _ awesome,” Ned told him, and then threw a handful of Doritos at Peter’s face which started a  _ war. _

All thoughts of schoolwork were temporarily pushed from their minds as they battled to the last chip. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmmm can we guess what this chapter is meant to set up ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: the next update to this work is NOT going to be on this fic. the next update is going to be the start of a side story set in this universe, so PLEASE **SUBSCRIBE TO THE SERIES** so that you don't miss out!!

Peter was trying to convince himself that everything was going to be okay. Nothing was going to go wrong, he told himself firmly, repeating the words like a mantra that echoed throughout his mind, playing over and over again until it stopped sounding so fake. After all, it wasn’t like anything _was_ going to go wrong. All he was doing was introducing one friend to another friend—nothing disastrous there! 

Definitely nothing disastrous there at all. 

Right? 

Ah crap, Peter had probably jinxed himself, hadn’t he?

It was fine! It wasn’t even that big of a deal. Peter was just making it into a big deal because that’s what he _did,_ he made things that weren’t big deals into big deals. Jeez, no wonder he was so stressed out all the time! As it was, today was not a big deal. No sir. Today was just a totally chill, totally low-key, totally casual day when all he was doing was introducing his life-long best friend to the person who was quickly becoming his _other_ best friend. 

That was fine!

It was only James and Ned. Hell, Peter was sure that they would get along. Or at least, he _hoped_ that they would get along. 

Obviously, being his life-long best friend, Ned was one of the most important people in Peter's life. But... James was quickly building a place inside Peter's heart as well. The reason that this all felt like such a big deal, when Peter really let himself think about it, was because it wasn't very often that he let people in. There was just too much there to let people in. There were the secrets and the superheroing and, sure, probably some hesitancy from all the bullying he’d gone through as a kid, too. 

And because of all of that, Peter just didn’t trust easily. When it came to James, though, none of that had mattered. That first day, in the alley, Peter had known that there was something more to James then everyone else always said there was. He wasn’t sure what had made him feel so sure, seeing as the guy had followed him home to make sure he wasn’t a threat, but Peter had offered to show him around for a reason. 

Something hadn’t let him just walk away. Not with James. And since then, they’d gotten so close in such a short amount of time that it felt like they’d known each other _forever._

Not only did they text throughout the day, but they talked on the phone whenever Peter had the time. It was kinda weird, since he’d grown up texting, but he understood that James had a hard time with it so he didn’t mind. It was kinda cool to talk to him on the phone when he could, anyway, since they didn’t get to see each other every day like Peter got to with Ned. 

James just understood parts of him that Ned never would, through no fault of his own, and having that was awesome. 

So even if he was worried about how the meeting was going to go, he _was_ excited for them to meet each other.

He knew that Ned was nervous and James was apprehensive, but Peter, in his core, way down underneath all his anxiety, wasn’t anything but excited. Wanting his two friends to get along with each other seemed like a really understandable thing to be so nervous about, after all, and he tried to convince himself that they were going to get along with each other as well as he got along with each of them. They were really different people, sure, and they didn't have any of the common denominators that Peter had with either of them... but they were totally going to get along.

Right? 

Peter was totally freaking out for nothing and everything was going to be totally fine!

Groaning pitifully, Peter slammed his head against Ned's front door in lieu of knocking. When a count to ten had passed and no one answered, Peter slammed his head against the door again. He considered just slamming his head _through_ the door, but then Ned would have to explain that to his parents, which probably wouldn’t go well at all.

Just like this wasn’t going to go well, Peter thought with another long groan.

Suddenly the front door swung open, causing Peter to go barrelling forward as he wind-milled his arms about. He screeched, sticking his feet to the ground and then pulling himself back to standing to the sound of Ned’s rich laughter. 

Peter shot him a dirty look that fell off his face when he realized Ned was standing on the other side of the doorway dressed in a nice, button-down t-shirt that Peter had no idea he owned, and a dark, fitted pair of jeans. Holy shit. Peter did a dramatic double-take before he gave Ned an appreciative once over that he definitely deserved, earning an eye roll and a smile. 

“C'mon in, loser,” Ned said in greeting, holding the door open wider and stepping aside. 

Peter did, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead as he looked Ned over _again._ “You look _really_ good, dude,” Peter told him as he slapped their hands together in a high-five.

“Shuddup,” Ned mumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket and typing something out before he looked back up at Peter. He had no idea what Ned was doing, but he’d once told Peter that using his phone helped him manage his anxiety, so he wasn’t gonna question it.

If Peter was worried he could only imagine how Ned was probably feeling, with the way he’d totally gushed over meeting James. Heck, maybe that was why he was dressed up so nice! Ned certainly didn’t dress up like _that_ just to hang out with Peter. 

Ned made his way into the kitchen, so Peter trailed after him once he’d closed and locked the door. Peter got himself a glass of water while Ned sat at one of the island chairs, putting his phone face down on the counter. Seeing as how Ned was usually glued to the thing, Peter appreciated what it meant for Ned to leave his phone face-side down. 

He leaned against the other side of the island as he sipped the chilled water that came from Ned’s sink as he drummed the fingers of his free hand against the marble countertop. Ned's family had money in a way Peter couldn't comprehend, living in his ratty two-bedroom apartment with May with the two of them surviving off her nurse's income. Ned’s parents... well, they were rich in the way most of the kids at Midtown were, in the showy way that made their house more an art piece than a home. 

Seeing as how they spent most of their downtime at Ned’s house it didn’t bother him anymore, but the first few times that Peter had gone over had felt strange, like he’d been taking up space that didn’t belong to him. Peter knew Ned didn't like it, especially because whatever exactly it was that his parents' did for work made it so they spent only a few hours a week together, if that.

During the years that they’d been friends, Peter had seen Ned’s parents disappear for _weeks_ if they had conferences they needed to go to. He knew that Ned got lonely, and for that, he’d take his and May’s apartment over the extravagant house Ned lived in any day. 

Peter finished his water before he hopped up onto the island, swinging his legs back and forth as he yawned widely behind his hand. It had been a late night out patrolling until the sun was coming up, only for him to slink home and sleep for a handful of restless hours. The late-night had been worth it, considering he had _finally_ busted the weapons ring he’d been following for the last couple of months, but damn was he tired. 

By the time he’d watched more police officers than he’d cared to count pack away the smugglers into a series of cruisers, he’d already been exhausted. Spending a whole night tossing and turning and worrying about Ned and James hadn’t made him feel any better. He’d barely been able to pull himself out of bed that morning, and as he sat on Ned’s counter, he felt the weight of his exhaustion heavy along his shoulders. 

“Late night?” Ned asked, tapping his own fingers against the table in what Peter knew was a show of nerves learned from him.

Well, at least he wasn’t the only one.

He spun around to face Ned, drawing his feet up and tucking his socked toes under his knees. They had a cleaner that came in every day, and it wasn’t like either of them cooked anything ever anyway. He watched Ned’s face, saw the genuine worry shining in his eyes, and shrugged his shoulders as he tried his best for a smile that wouldn’t look too forced. 

Peter nodded in answer, and when he forced another smile, it didn’t feel as fake. “I busted the ring.”

“Dude!” Ned exclaimed, jumping to his feet and moving so he could punch Peter in the arm. Enthusiasm dripped from his voice as he said, “That's freaking awesome!”

“Thanks,” Peter said, his mouth stretching into a wider smile as his chest went warm at the praise in Ned’s tone and the clear pride in Ned’s smile. 

He was proud of what he managed to do. Being a superhero was draining on the best of days, but sometimes Peter managed to do things that made him feel _good,_ which made it feel like all the late nights and the non-stop nightmares and all the trauma responses were actually worth something. The ring he’d busted had been _big,_ and he wouldn’t be surprised if things were, if not quiet, less deadly for the next couple of months. 

With that in mind, Peter slapped Ned’s hand when he held it up, but he twisted his fingers around Ned’s hand and pulled him into an awkward hug. Knowing that he’d done something that could keep people safe made his chest feel fit to burst, and it was during times like these he was so glad that Ned knew the truth about who he was. 

Ned hugged him back tightly, laughing against Peter’s face where his face had gotten mushed. Peter let him go after a second, forever glad to have someone like Ned in his life and by his side. After a second Peter let Ned go and he pulled back, a wide smile on his face as he asked Peter what exactly happened.

He smiled right back, and then he told Ned the whole story, gesturing wildly with his hands as he lost himself in the retelling, hashing through all the exciting details. Like he always did when Peter felt up to sharing, Ned listened avidly, openly curious and endlessly supportive. There were times when Peter didn’t want to be a superhero so badly he couldn’t even talk about it. During those times, Ned had gotten really good at letting him be, but during the occasional time Peter _did_ want to talk about being a superhero, Ned was just as awesome at being a totally captive audience. 

He asked questions—but not too many and not about things that Peter wouldn’t want to talk about—and he made appropriate noises throughout the story that really made it seem like he was listening. Generally, he was just an awesome best friend. 

When Peter was done, their conversation bled to school and the approaching end to their senior year. It was something weighing heavy on both their minds, and they spent some time complaining. Ned was doing _way_ better than Peter at staying on top of all their work, and if it wasn't for his organization and memory, Peter wasn't sure what he would do.

He was just beyond glad that they had the same schedule. 

Just as Peter was opening his mouth to complain about their English teacher, the doorbell rang. Peter jumped off the counter excitedly and looked over to Ned with a wide smile, only to find his best friend hunched over with a frown spread across his face. 

“I'll open the door,” Peter told him as gently as he could, resting a hand on Ned's shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. He waited until Ned met his eyes and gave him a nod before he moved away, sparing him one last look over his shoulder. 

While he was worried about Ned’s nerves, he tried to focus on his own bubbling excitement. Ned was just meeting someone he idolized, and Peter knew first hand how nerve-wracking that was seeing how many times it’d happened. He wouldn’t judge Ned for being nervous, not when Peter himself had such a bad track record when it came to this exact thing. 

His earlier nerves were all but completely melting away, and he had to stop himself from skipping to the front door in excitement. Telling Ned about his victory from his night before had totally changed his mood, and Peter was riding the wave of endorphins as he made his way to the door. He took a deep, grounding breath before he pulled it open, and a huge smile spread across his face as he reached for the handle. 

He pulled Ned’s door open to find James tapping his fingers against his thigh, wearing a dark shirt under a leather jacket and in a pair of jeans that were ripped across one knee. Peter raised an eyebrow at the tight fit of... well, everything that James had on, and suddenly felt out of place in his fitted track pants and too-big hoodie.

Had he missed a memo about dressing to impress?

Peter was still trying to think of something to say when James cleared his throat. 

“Hello,” James greeted him stiltedly, his eyes darting around the house. There was a familiar line of tension in his shoulders, and Peter tried offering a wider smile. James held up a plastic bag with a simple logo, and said, “I didn't know what to bring, so I brought chips?”

“Oh, cool!” Peter replied, moving slowly to grab the bag and peek inside. Oh, Doritos! He stepped aside so James could come in, closing the door behind him. “You totally didn’t have to bring anything but yourself, though! We weren’t expecting anything.”

“My Ma would’ve been real disappointed if I’d shown up to somebody's house with nothin’ for ‘em. Did I get a bad kind? I can always go back...”

“No! No, James, these are awesome. Ned loves Doritos, actually. And oh! Ned. He’s in the kitchen, if you wanna come and meet him?”

James nodded, but he didn't move until Peter did. There was something close to a grimace on James’ face that Peter was _pretty_ sure was supposed to be a smile. As much as he hated thinking it, it made him feel really good knowing that he wasn’t the only one who was so nervous about this. 

Peter took a deep breath as he led James through Ned’s front hall. The taller man trailed after him, and Peter was happy to note that having James at his back no longer made him nervous. It wasn’t that he was any less of a threat, seeing as he was the _Winter Soldier,_ but he wasn’t a threat to _Peter,_ not anymore, and that made him grin. 

His smile stayed in place even when he glanced back and found James’ eyes darting around the room in a way that Peter was getting used to. James' eyes, no matter where he was or what he was looking at, were always sharp and assessing. To Peter, it seemed that James was constantly on the lookout for threats—and with the life he’d lived, Peter wouldn't have been surprised if that was the case.

As it was, James’ constant hyper-vigilance was normal to Peter after the few times they’d hung out. 

He led James into the kitchen, having a very one-sided conversion about his favourite Doritos, only to find Ned standing by the counter with hands shoved deep into his pockets as he worried at his bottom lip. He _looked_ nervous, more nervous than Peter had seen him in a while, and his eyes widened dramatically as he stared at something past Peter’s shoulder. Seeing that the only thing behind him was James, he had a pretty good idea _what_ Ned was staring at, but something flashed across his face that Peter couldn't name.

Peter tried making eye contact to see if he could figure out just what Ned was thinking, but Ned’s eyes didn’t stray. Silence stretched on with neither Ned nor James saying anything, until Peter’s mental count got to thirty and he awkwardly cleared his throat. 

“Uh... right. Okay, introductions. James, this is Ned, and Ned, this is James,” Peter waved his arms around as he introduced them to the other, feeling increasingly awkward when the silence _still_ stretched on. He swung his head around to look at James, but too he was staring at Ned with an expression Peter couldn’t recognize. Huh. 

Cocking his head to the side, Peter took a wide step to the side so he wasn’t standing between the two of them any longer and did another, increasingly awkward, wave.

Then, _finally,_ James stepped forward, and Peter watched as his eyes raked up and down Ned's form in a way that made _Peter_ want to blush from the intensity of it. He almost cleared his throat, but when Ned hesitantly stepped forward he kept the noise in, watching as James offered his hand.

“It sure is nice to meet ya, doll,” James said, his voice a deep, rumbling tone that Peter had never heard before. 

Before he could even _think_ about what that meant, his eyes were blowing wide and his mouth was dropping open because Ned _blushed_ , his face going redder than Peter had ever seen it—including the time Ned got so sunburned he had to get a special cream from his doctor. Head cocking _further_ to the side, Peter’s eyes played ping-pong with his two friends, snapping from Ned’s flushed face to James’ _flirty_ smile.

Peter’s heart rate kicked up into overdrive as adrenaline started pumping through him while he watched them watch each other, wondering what the _hell_ was going on. 

“Y-you t-too,” Ned replied with a freaking _stutter_ , before he slowly reached out to take the hand James had offered. 

Their hands shook up and down for a long moment, and Peter could see the way James was rubbing his thumb along the back of Ned's hand. 

_What._

_Was._

_Happening?_

It felt like the world had slowed to a standstill, and he watched, mouth dropped open in shock, as his best friends _held hands_ in Ned's kitchen. Eventually it felt like he was watching something that he shouldn’t be watching, seeing a Ned and James were still just watching each other and holding hands—there wasn’t even the pretense of a handshake any longer, seeing as their hands were just hanging in the air—and he cleared his throat when he realized just how uncomfortable he felt. 

“So...” Peter started awkwardly, trailing off into silence when Ned quickly pulled his hand back and James' smile dimmed, just a touch. Oh crap, that was _not_ what he wanted! Immediately, guilt crept up his stomach. James was standing tall, but Ned had curled into himself in a way that made Peter feel like the biggest asshole ever. 

He tried to think of something to say that might ease the rising tension, but his mind was totally blank. Absolute blue screen. He'd _never_ witnessed something like this before—especially not with Ned!—though it wasn’t like Peter even knew what was happening, not really. Whatever it was, though, he really hoped he hadn’t just messed it up. 

Finally, he managed to ask, “Here, uh, I can take your coat?”

It took a few seconds, but finally, James nodded without saying anything. Peter watched as James’ eyes never wavered from Ned, and instead stayed on him until Ned must have looked up. James’ eyes didn’t move as he slowly peeled his jacket down his arms, his shoulder and his bicep flexing _way_ more than they needed to. In fact, Peter had seen James take off a jacket before, and it sure as heck hadn't looked like this!

Then James stepped closer to Ned, which was technically closer to Peter as well, and he used his left arm to hand the jacket over, even though it meant crossing his arm over his chest in a way that made the gears whir. 

Again, what. Was. Happening? 

“Holy shit,” Ned breathed, and Peter whipped his head around to find Ned’s eyes stuck on James' now-bare metal arm. 

Which... well honestly Peter had to agree—James _was_ hot, and while not entirely Peter's type, he could see the obvious appeal at the way his muscles were literally bulging and his metal arm was all... shiny. Ned totally had a thing for technology. With his eyes shooting back to James and the way they were _still_ glued to Ned, Peter could see the appeal towards his best friend, too, especially with how dressed up he was. Peter’s heart did an excited little somersault at the possibility of someone else seeing it as well. 

Especially if that someone was James.

Peter had always thought that James was insecure about his arm, but now Peter figured the glove he usually wore was just to help conceal his identity. Which totally made sense, seeing as the metal arm was a staple of the Winter Soldier and on, like, all the toys that were made of him. The way he was showing it off now definitely didn't seem like he was insecure. Oh yeah, totally not insecure at all. 

The arm whirred quietly, and Peter heard Ned's breathing pick up in response. He actually _moaned_ when James clenched his fist, the gears letting out the smallest hiss of air.

Ned was no longer looking at James' face and when Peter looked at him in absolute shock, he was very clearly staring at James’ arm. When Peter looked back at James he realized that his arm was literally shining in the light and glinting silver, and Ned watched it like it was... well, something infinitely more appealing than a metal limb had any right to be. Once again Peter’s eyes ping-ponged to James who was still staring right back at Ned, but Peter figured his gaze was locked on Ned's mouth and the way it was dropped open, tongue resting against his bottom lip in such an obscene way that even Peter was picturing certain things. 

Which, _ew,_ that was _Ned._

Peter choked on his own saliva, unable to get past the thought of _Ned,_ the boy he literally considered a _brother,_ in such a... compromising situation. Oh, god. No. No! Brain bleach. Brain bleach right away! Peter coughed loudly which caused both men to startled and look over at him sharply, obviously distracted out of their... whatever it was that just happened by the noise. 

Ned looked forlorn, his eyebrows raised helplessly halfway up his forehead, and James looked... Peter wasn’t totally sure, but he was pretty sure that the frown on his face and the way his forehead was creasing up was because he was disappointed. Oh, no. Peter did it again! Crap, and he still had no idea what to do, but he felt incredibly bad for interrupting the moment his two friends had been locked in, _again!_ Curse his strong brotherly bond.

Peter desperately racked his brain as he tried to think of _something_ he could say to ease the growing awkwardness, especially with the way the two of them were staring at him like he _had_ to do something. 

Crap. Crap, crap, crap! 

“Did you want to watch a movie?” Peter blurted out, the very first thing that came to mind, and he let out a sigh of relief when Ned quickly nodded his head and James shrugged his shoulders.

Okay. A movie. 

He could work with that. Right? 

* * *

By the time the credits were rolling and the movie was coming to a close, all Peter could really say about it was that it was fine. He found that action movies... weren’t really all that great, ever since he’d gotten his powers and started living one. He had enough adrenaline in his day-to-day life to wanna watch two hours of silly, overly produced action during the little bits of free time he granted himself. 

But Ned liked action movies and James hadn’t seemed to mind when they asked him. Actually, when Peter really paused to think about it, it seemed like James just nodded along to whatever Ned said, since it was _super_ clear he hadn’t been interested in the movie at all. In fact, it’d been clear from the very first scene that Peter was the only one even watching the movie!

Not that he minded, though, ‘cause while he was watching the movie, Ned and James were watching each other. Ned’s entertainment room had a couple of different couches, and Peter had spread out across a deep, comfy armchair when they first sat down. Ned had already been sitting on a loveseat that Peter knew was _super_ comfortable. He’d sat on one end, but then James had sat _right_ beside him instead of on the open couch.

Peter had been able to hear Ned’s sharp gasp of air and the really gentle way James asked him if it was okay that he was sitting there. After that Peter had focused on the TV to give them privacy and did his very best not to listen in at all. 

Halfway through the movie, though, he gave up giving them privacy. Watching Ned and James was _way_ more entertaining than watching the movie. Since Peter had taken note of where James sat down, he could tell that he’d gotten even closer. It didn’t look like they were touching anywhere, but James’ metal arm was laying over the back of the cushion that Ned was sitting against. In fact, it may have even been resting along Ned’s shoulders, Peter just couldn’t tell for sure. 

The best part was the way their heads were bent together as they kept whispering to each other. Even though Peter was half watching the movie and half watching them, it didn’t seem like either of them had an idea. They were totally absorbed in each other and lost away in their own little world, and it made Peter smile softly for the whole two hours the dumb movie played. 

Both of his friends were awesome, awesome people. He was _pretty_ sure that Ned was straight, but he’d support them both throughout anything that may happen between them, because they each totally deserved to be super happy. If Peter could help in some way, he was totally gonna do everything in his power. 

His smile fell away when the movie ended, though. It felt like some sort of spell had been broken and Peter stood to stretch out his legs, popping his back with a little groan of relief when everything shifted into place. He looked back to the couch, his mouth already open to complain about how hungry he was, when he watched Ned shift away from where James was leaning into his space. 

Fierce anger rose in Peter’s chest and clawed its way around his lungs. He was about to take a step forward, hands always curled into fists and ready to pull James away if he needed to, his heart racing and adrenaline pumping, when he saw the achingly vulnerable look stretched across James’ face, more open and earnest than anything Peter had seen of him before. 

He fell back a step, his heel landing heavily enough that it made a quiet thump, but each of them turned to look at him with equally guilty faces. Ned’s face was twisted into something confused and James looked desperate in a way Peter hadn’t ever seen from him before. Peter sucked in a breath and an apology was already on the tip of his tongue when Ned cleared his throat. 

“Peter, can I...” Ned trailed off into nothing, but Peter knew how to read Ned better than he knew how to read anyone else. 

He dragged his eyes over to James and found him staring at Ned intently, even though Ned was steadily _not_ looking at him. Something unfurled in his chest, but he knew from the look in Ned’s eyes that he seriously needed him. He smiled, softly, and nodded his head. Ned’s entire frame relaxed as he let out a long breath.

“James, I'm gonna walk you out, okay?” Peter asked him without really making it a question. He walked over to the love seat they'd shared and offered him a hand, not giving him a choice to do anything _but_ leave. 

Pulling James up was easy with his strength and he motioned for James to go towards the kitchen where his jacket still was, sending another reassuring smile to Ned that he hoped would help him calm down a little bit more. Just from the look on his face, he could tell Ned was too anxious for it to really work, but he hoped it would comfort him at least a little bit. 

He followed after James quickly, finding him holding his jacket in the middle of the kitchen and staring at the floor. There was something on his face that caused Peter’s heart to lurch. He wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words, not when he didn’t know what was said or why Ned was upset, so instead he said nothing but he did step closer and hold out his hand with the most comforting smile he could dredge up. 

James reached out and took it. 

Peter gave him a wider smile and quietly led him through the rest of the house, retracing their earlier steps toward the front door. James’ hand was super warm around his, squeezing tightly enough that it kind of hurt but not nearly as bad as the day they’d gone out and James had broken his fingers. 

When they got to the front door neither of them made a move to open it, and James stepped right at his side, close enough that their shoulders brushed together. It made Peter feel all warm inside, knowing that James trusted him enough to hold his hand and share his space. 

James looked at him, but before Peter got the chance to say anything his eyebrows pulled down into an angry-looking frown.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked with a note of hurried urgency to his voice.

Peter squeezed his hand tightly and laid his other hand on his forearm. “No, I really don't think so. I think Ned just needs some time alone, and he wasn’t totally sure how to ask for it.”

“I—” James ran his metal-hand through his hair, tugging at the long ends as he let out a frustrated sigh. He took a step away so Peter let him go, and he watched worriedly as James rolled his shoulders then shook out his arms with another, rougher sigh. He seemed to pull himself together as he shrugged on his coat, but Peter could still read the tension across his body. “Alright. Will you let me know if he’s okay?”

“If I can, of course,” Peter promised, watching him worriedly as James nodded stiffly before he turned towards the door. He didn’t move at first, staring at the door but for several long seconds before letting out another sigh and finally moving to pull it open. 

They bid their farewells, Peter asking for James to text him once he was home safe, before he hurried back to the entertainment room. He stopped in the doorway to take in Ned’s hunched appearance, wincing at the way his head was hanging between his shoulders and buried in his hands. There was a defeated slump to Ned's shoulders that Peter hated, and he quietly moved to go sit beside him, close but not touching. 

At first, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t know _what_ to say, seeing as he didn’t even know what had happened. Whatever James had said had been too quiet for Peter to pick up when he wasn’t even listening, though now he felt awful for not having paid Ned more attention. 

“You okay, man?” Peter finally settled on, keeping his voice gentle as he did his best to be close but not _too_ close. If Ned wanted to, all he would have to do to erase the space between them would be to lean to the side, but Peter wanted that to be Ned’s choice. 

Thankfully, he did. Ned shook his head in answer and took a few deep breaths before he leant to the side so their arms were pressed together. They sat like that in silence for a little bit, Peter sitting tall and supporting Ned’s side without saying anything. He knew that Ned would speak when he was ready.

When he _did_ finally speak, his voice was hardly more than a whisper, though it sounded loud in the near-silence of the room. “You know... you know how you always tell me that sexuality can be fluid? That it... like, can change and stuff?”

“Yeah, man,” Peter said softly, laying his hand on Ned's knee as the boy pressed heavier against his side. Ned kept his gaze focused on the floor, and so Peter asked, “What's going on, dude?”

“I think I might be, like, hetero-flexible?” Ned’s voice trailed off into nothing, and Peter watched as he laced his fingers tightly together. Peter knew why he was doing it, and he covered Ned’s hands with the one that’d been resting on his knees and gave them a soft squeeze. Ned took a deep breath, and then he said, “I'm... I've always been totally straight. There's _never_ been a guy I've wanted to bang before but... James is. I—fuck, Pete, I don’t even know! 

“I don't _know_ and it's... fuck, Peter, he's fucking hot.” Peter chuckled, softly, at the blunt way he ended, though he leaned back against Ned so he would know he wasn’t laughing at _him._ He tightened his hold on Ned's hand and rubbed his thumb across his knuckles in slow strokes, 

“That’s really cool, Ned,” Peter told him sincerely, ducking his head so he could meet Ned’s eyes and give him a big smile.

Ned’s face was twisted into something anxious and sad that Peter wanted to smooth away. “Are you sure? Because I don't just mean hot, like, hot hot, I mean, like...”

“Like questioning your sexuality hot?” Peter asked, snorting when Ned turned to him with wide eyes and his head nodding so quickly his features blurred. “Trust me, dude, I _totally_ know what type of hot you’re talking about. 

Ned snorted with him, and they shared a soft laugh before things got quiet again. Peter wanted to give Ned all the time he needed to come to terms with... well, apparently with his sexuality. Peter knew how tough that could be, and the last thing he wanted to do was pressure Ned. So they sat together quietly as Peter held his hands, leaning against one another.

After a few long minutes of quiet, Ned let out a long, dramatic sigh.

“God. I crush on a guy and it's the most hopeless crush I've ever fucking had,” Ned mumbled darkly, but even under the frustration Peter could hear the sadness in his voice.

“I'm not so sure,” Peter told him quietly, smiling softly when Ned shot him a sour look. “Really, dude! I've never seen him like this before.”

Ned scoffed and rolled his eyes before he said, “Haven't you hung out with him, like, once?”

“That may be true,” Peter started tightening his grip on Ned's knee, “but I think you should maybe try. At least to see what happens, right? He was _really_ worried about you when I walked him out. He even asked that I call him to let him know if you’re okay!”

The slight pinking of Ned's cheek made Peter smile widely, overwhelmingly happy for his friend. He was being serious when he said that Ned should try; the way that James had looked at Ned... yeah, he was totally interested. 

He leaned over to bump their shoulders together, and Ned met his eyes after a minute. “Do... do you think that maybe...” Ned trailed off, but Peter heard all that he wasn't saying. 

Peter cuddled closer, slipping his hand between Ned’s to lace their fingers together and then covering the back of Ned’s hand with his free one, smiling when the other boy leaned into him even heavier. “Yeah, buddy. I've never seen him act like he did tonight and, honestly, I don’t think I’ve _ever_ seen someone act like that outside of a romantic comedy. He was totally into you!.”

“I'm not gonna get my hopes up,” Ned told him, and even though it wasn't the happy reaction Peter had been hoping for, it still made him smile at his best friend. “But I... I won’t stop something, not if it starts to happen.”

“Hell yeah! That's great, man,” Peter said seriously, his own heart suddenly feeling fit to burst with all the possibilities spreading out before two of his favourite people.

* * *

Peter's phone rang the second he stepped through his bedroom door, almost at the exact moment as the door clicked shut. He snorted even as he pulled his phone out of his back pocket, not even bothering to check the caller ID. There was only one person it was likely to be, and Peter didn't think it was a coincidence, not a single bit, that the call came in when it did. 

He raised his phone to his ear but he didn’t say anything right away, even as he rolled his eyes and held in a second snort. Peter could hear James breathing through the line and he waited the man out, figuring it was fair seeing as how James was apparently _watching him._ It didn’t take too long, actually, and less than a minute after Peter had answered the call, James was letting out a deep breath that blew that crackled through the phone line. 

“Is Ned okay?” James’ voice was filled with an urgency he’d never heard from directly, but could recognize from the few times he’d listened to the comm recordings of Avenger missions, back when they’d first started back as a team and Peter hadn’t trusted any of them around Tony even less than he did now. 

It _wasn’t_ funny that James sounded so worried, but Peter still felt a laugh bubble out of his throat at the thought of James being as worried over Ned as he was about world-saving superhero missions. 

“Yeah, James, he's okay,” Peter told him gently, a smile on his face and no doubt in his voice. 

Before he had left Ned’s place, he’d made sure that he asked Ned what, if anything, he should tell James. He wasn’t just going to share something if Ned didn’t want James to know about it, so he’d made sure he knew what Ned did and didn’t want him to share. “He's okay. He wanted me to let you know that he had a really great time with you today and was super happy you two met, he just got a little flustered and needed a bit of space to process everything.”

“Process what?” James asked sharply, and Peter could imagine the furrow that would be formed between his eyebrows when he frowned. 

Peter chewed on his bottom lip as he finally fell back onto his bed, letting out a whoosh of breath as he thought through how to say what he wanted to say without really _saying_ anything. “I think that's for Ned to tell you. I don’t want to say something that’s his to tell, ya know? But... I'm sure you wouldn't be too far off if you guessed.”

“Oh,” James said quietly, more of an exhalation of air than an actual word. Peter's smile softened, picking out the hint of wonder in James' voice even over the phone. “I. That's... that sounds good. I like how that sounds.”

Peter laughed again, snuggling into his pillows with a happy noise. Never before had he thought about Ned dating someone. It wasn’t that he didn’t think someone wouldn’t want to date Ned, ‘cause Ned was awesome and totally adorable. If Peter wasn’t into middle-aged scientists and Ned wasn’t, like, his _brother,_ he probably would have tried dating Ned! It was just... well, neither himself nor Ned were super popular, and he knew that the girls at school couldn’t see past Ned’s size or his nerdiness to ever give him a chance. 

From what he’d seen today, neither of those two things were an obstacle for James, who was, at the very least, really worried about Ned’s well-being. Sure, they might never start dating, but Peter wasn’t blind. James had been really interested in Ned, and that... well, Peter thought that was seriously awesome. 

Peter focused back to the moment at hand, and realized that James was still breathing pretty heavily into the phone. He could only wonder how the other man was doing, so he asked, “How are you feeling, James? I know it was kinda rude of me to ask you to leave like that, and I’m really sorry for the way I just rushed you out of there out of nowhere.”

The line was quiet for long enough that Peter pulled the phone away from his ear to make sure they were still connected. He frowned at his phone screen before bringing it back to his ear, straining his hearing and realizing that he couldn’t even hear James breathing. 

“James?”

“Ned is your best friend,” James told him bluntly. 

“Yes... he is. What does that have to do with anything?” Peter asked, moving to fiddle with the hem of his t-shirt, wrapping and unwrapping the fabric around his finger; a nervous tick.

“Shouldn't you be... upset with me?” James asked him slowly, like he wasn’t sure of the words, and Peter's frown only got deeper.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“I'm attracted to him,” James told him plainly, and despite the obvious confusion in his voice, a thrill shot up Peter's spine in honour of Ned's happiness. 

Hell yeah! 

“Dude, that's _awesome!”_ Peter exclaimed, wiggling happily in bed and laughing out loud. “Oh thank god. I was _sure_ you were, and I told Ned that you probably were, but he was so worried that you wouldn't be interested in him. I told him that he was awesome but... he didn’t really believe you’d wanna date him. This is seriously awesome James! Are you going to ask him out? Oh my god, you should totally ask him out!”

“This isn't a good thing, Peter,” James told him forcefully, and then quieter, in a whisper, _“I_ am not a good thing.”

“Hey!” Peter shot up into a sitting position, crossing his legs as his free hand formed a tight fight. “That is _not_ true,” Peter told him fiercely, indignation at James' self-demeaning words making his voice crack. “You are _amazing,_ James. You've been nothing but an amazing friend to me, and I see how much you care about people, even if they don't deserve it. You’re trying so, so hard to be a good person and that’s awesome! “

“I am too old, then,” James said, completely disregarding Peter’s rant. 

“Okay, way to totally ignore me,” he mumbled, but then added, “Aren’t you, like, twenty-three?”

James was quiet for a long, tense moment before he said, “I'm not sure.”

“Oh...” Peter whispered, his heart aching something fierce at the utter confusion in James’ voice. He wished, desperately, that James was with him so he could comfort him, and he made a weak noise from the back of his throat at how useless he suddenly felt. James needed him, and he wasn’t there. “I'm really, really sorry, James.”

“It wouldn't work,” James told him quietly, but even to Peter he didn't sound so sure anymore. 

That was good. Maybe Peter could convince him that he was worth more. Peter knew he was, and it seemed like Ned already knew he was, too. All he needed to do was get James on board. Peter flopped back onto his bed as he searched for the right words to say to _somehow_ make James feel better, desperately wishing that he could hug him.

“Look... I know what you've been through is unimaginable. It’s... nobody can dispute how much you’ve lived through. It’s _amazing_ that you’re still trying to do good, so don’t think that it isn’t, okay? I know you might think you’re too... too whatever for Ned, but Ned's been on his own since he was a kid. He might not always seem like it, because he's into video games and building epic Lego creations, but he's really mature. He’s had to be, without his parents around. 

“I don't want you to just write him off because _you_ think you're not good enough, okay? If Ned wants to date you and you want to date Ned... I think that’s all that matters. Besides, we both know who _I_ have a crush on. I just... it isn’t illegal. It isn’t bad. Sure, you two have really, really different lives, but Ned’s awesome with the whole superhero thing, seriously.”

James was still silent, so Peter took a long breath and ended his rant with, “I don’t want to see you hold yourself back from something that could make you really happy just because you don’t think you’re good enough, okay?.”

“Why are you telling me this?” James asked, _begged,_ immediately after Peter stopped talking, and his heart twisted around his chest painfully. 

“You're both my friends. Hell, you're both my _best_ friends, and I don't want to see either of you get hurt. I care about you both so much, and all I want for both of you is happiness. I may have known Ned a few years longer than I’ve known you, but you both mean a lot to me, okay? Ned is awesome, and you're awesome, and you both seem to be interested in each other. I'm not saying that has to go somewhere, but the worst that could happen is that it doesn't, right? I—I want you to know that I'm here for you, okay? If you need something, anything at all, I'm here for you just like I would be for Ned.”

“Thank you,” James whispered, and his voice was rougher than it had been a moment ago. “I just... thank you.”

Peter hummed in acknowledgement as he let his eyes fall closed, but he didn't say anything else. He didn’t have anything else to say, not when it felt like he’d said his piece and, hopefully, gotten his point across. Rather he settled back into his bed, keeping his phone pressed against his ear to listen to the calming noise of James' breathing. If he needed time to process what Peter had told him, that was okay. 

Peter could be patient, when it really mattered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stressed noises. ah. AH. it's been two months. that was SO not the plan when I first started posting this work. actually, nothing about this work has ever gone to plan, so i don't even know why im surprised that the posting hasn't gone to plan either. the main reason that this is so late is bc i've been having a rough time with school this semester. the semester actually started may 12th, which was just a week or so before the last chapter was posted. i didn't think it was going to take as much time and energy as it has, and that's one of the big, big reasons this chapter has taken two whole months. while i thought i would be able to maintain bi-weekly uploads, school has seen to it that i can't. im going to try to upload this fic once a month from here on out, but i've also started a new job this month with is WAY more stress than my lost job was which... i guess is what a job promotion is all about :woman_shrugging:. 
> 
> comments seriously keep me going, especially during such crazy times as these, so PLEASE tell me what you think in the comments! are you liking this? what are you liking about it? who's your favourite character so far? what are you excited for going forward? seriously, i would LOVE to hear some of these answers!

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> kudos aren’t the same as getting a comment, not even close. so a comment, as short and sweet or as sprawling and sporadic as you can manage, would be _greatly_ appreciated! don't know what to comment? how about _”this was great!”_ or _“awesome work!”_


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